Bedtime Confessions
by pgrabia
Summary: Bedtime conversations between House and Wilson. Follows my fic 'The Cheater' so you may want to read that first though it's not absolutely necessary. House/Wilson slash. General spoilers for Season 8. Adult conversations and some sexuality. Contains coarse language.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1300

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

They lay entwined around each other in bed surrounded by darkness so that all they can see is their silhouettes. It doesn't matter, because they don't need to see each other so long as they are able to communicate through touch and sound.

"I think we should tell our families about us, don't you?"

"Why bother?"

"They're bound to find out eventually. It would be better if they heard about it from us directly."

"My mother and her husband wouldn't be all that surprised. I think they suspected something when you went goo-goo over my baby pictures that Mom brought with them the last time they were here."

"You don't think Blythe would mind you being in a relationship with another man?"

"My mom? The hippy that got pregnant while indulging in free love and cannabis while John was on military maneuvers? She'd be all right. Surprised, sure, but she'd get over it. Besides, she likes you—you're the daughter she wishes she'd had."

"Of course." Wilson says drily, then: "I can tell that she's very proud of you."

"Yeah, I guess so, sometimes, at least. What about your parents?"

"Ah, well, yes…that would be a different story."

"How bad?"

"Mom would cry and then be in complete denial about us. Dad would turn stony, tell me that I'm a disgrace to the family, and then go to his den and get drunk and not come out until after we left. Or, he might try to knock some sense into me. He can be unpredictable at times."

"I wouldn't let him lay a hand on you. The moment he tried he'd find my cane across the back of his head."

"You wouldn't actually hurt my dad."

"If he tried to hurt _you_? Damn straight I would."

"Despite the fact we're talking about you assaulting my father, that's quite romantic of you."

"Romantic nothing. You're my meal ticket. Always look out for your meal ticket."

"Gee, I feel so warm and fuzzy inside."

"You know I'm kidding."

"I'm not certain I do. Elaborate."

"You're not serious."

"Deadly. Exactly what am I to you?"

"You're…come on, Wilson. You _know_."

"Maybe I really don't."

Silence dominates for several seconds.

Sighing, "You're the person I care most about. Period. No one else is more important than you."

"I'm not even certain what that's supposed to mean. Look, you know I love you. You know it because I tell you and I show you."

"I show you that I love you."

"Sometimes. But you rarely say it."

"Words are cheap. Actions are what count. Sure, I give you a rough time, laugh at you, pull pranks at your expense…but I do it all because…well, because…"

"Because? Is it really that hard to say, House? Are you afraid I'm going to mock you for saying it? Because I won't. You might say that I kind of need to hear you say it. Words may not mean much to you, but they mean a lot to me."

"Why?"

"Oh for Pete's sake—never mind! Goodnight, House."

"No, wait a minute. You started this; you can at least answer my question. Why do words mean so much to you?"

"Why don't they for you?"

"Uh-uh, no. I asked first. Why does it matter to you whether or not I verbally tell you how I feel?"

Wilson says nothing for a moment and then, "They never said it to me."

"Who never said what to you?"

"My parents. They never…they never told me that they loved me."

"Get out—really?"

"Really. Oh, they told me that they cared about me, and when I'd bring home an A on a test or an assignment they'd tell me 'good job' or 'well done'; I heard them tell David and Danny that they loved them a lot of times, but never to me."

"That's fucked up."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I mean, my parents were always there for me and you could argue that they showed me they loved me, but they never said it, not even once. Why would they say it over and over again to my brothers and not to me? I used to think that if I worked a little harder, excelled a little further, then maybe—_maybe_—they might let it slip, by accident, even. But…nope."

"That's…that's screwed up in so many ways, Wilson."

"Well, now you know. So answer my question."

"Which one was that again?"

"House—"

"Okay, okay. In my household growing up, it was the opposite. I was told that they loved me, but then they would do…things…that displayed anything but."

"What sort of things are we talking about here?"

"I don't know. _Things._"

"Like what?"

House sighs; this is difficult for him. "Mom would turn a blind eye and deaf ear, or she would go out and leave me home alone with John."

"Okay. So?"

"John and I didn't see eye to eye. Ever. Sometimes when we had a difference of opinion, John would do things."

"What sort of things?"

"Wilson—"

"House, you're trembling. You can trust me. What sort of things did he do?"

"Well, my ass and his belt were on intimate terms with each other, for one thing."

"Wow. There's more. You're not shaking right now because your dad spanked you occasionally. Or was it more than a spanking?"

"He left welts and bruises."

"Christ."

"Yeah."

"Is that it, or did he do anything else?"

"Are you asking me if he ever diddled with Little Greg?"

"Uh, not in those terms, but uh…yeah."

"No. No, John preferred good old fashioned code red military discipline for his son, or, rather, the kid he was forced to raise as his son."

"Code red military discipline? What does that mean?"

House sighs again. Wilson wraps an arm around him almost protectively. After a moment or two, House answers.

"Did you ever see the movie 'A Few Good Men'?"

"The one with Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson?"

"Don't forget Demi Moore."

"Who could? You mean, John did to you the kinds of things those marines did to each other as discipline for breaking their codes? My god, House, what kinds of things are we talking about?"

"Ice baths, for one. Or locking me outside overnight no matter what time of year it was or what the weather was like. He enjoyed his petty little power plays."

"Fuck, House! Why didn't you ever tell me this before?"

"Why didn't you tell me that your parents were douches who never told you that they loved you?"

"Touché. Damn it, I had no idea."

They lie in silence for a while, still holding each other.

"Wilson?"

"Yeah, House?"

"I…I _do _love you."

Wilson caresses House's face gently, kisses his mouth with tenderness.

"I love you, too."

"Let's tell your family first. Instead of making your father cry uncle, I'll get him to tell you that he adores you."

"House."

"Just kidding. Geez, you just got laid; lighten up a little."

_**~fin~**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (2/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1280

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Two**

House lies on the bed, watching Wilson undress. He has always admired Wilson's body, even during his heavier phases. Since House's incarceration Wilson has been eating better. Even a year after House's conditional release he looks trim. It is hard for House to believe that just a scant few weeks before a tumor had threatened this contentment he'd found in their relationship, whatever one wanted to label it. There was no sign of illness in the creamy flesh and toned muscles he saw being exposed one article of clothing at a time.

"You like to watch me undress."

"Yes. I'm going to buy you a stripper pole and set it up at the end of the bed."

"Uh, no, you're not."

"Spoil sport. Turn around; your ass is great but I like your junk, too."

"Please, I'm blushing."

"Oh, whatever. You're enjoying this as much as I am."

"And you're wearing too many clothes. Pajama pants? Really?"

"It's cold in here."

"It is not. You're just hiding your scar again. How many times do I have to tell you that it doesn't bother me or make me view you any differently? I love all of you."

"Liar. Nobody loves scars, not even you."

"It's part of you, of who you are, and I love you."

"Wow, you've reached mushy and we haven't even done anything yet. What are you going to be like after the mind-blowing orgasm I'm going to give you—that is, if you get your ass over here some time tonight."

"I'll join you right now, but first, remove your pants—or let me do it."

"Wilson—"

"House, you don't have to be ashamed of it, especially around me. It's not like you did anything wrong to have the infarction or the resulting surgery. I love _all_ of your body."

"If I let you take my pajama pants off, will you stop being so sappy?"

"No guarantees, but I'll try."

House sighs, nods. Wilson smiles and approaches the bed. He slowly pulls down House's pajama bottoms and smiles even more broadly when he notices that House isn't wearing underwear underneath them. Wilson sets the pants down in a neat pile on a chair near the bed, then climbs on to the bed and crawls until his body is suspended over House's. He leans in and kisses House with passion. House wraps his arms around him and pulls him down until Wilson's body in on his. Wilson is careful about House's bad leg even as they make out like they haven't seen each other for a long time.

They part to breathe.

"Before we do it, I want to tell you something," House whispers, looking somberly into Wilson's eyes.

"Okay. Go ahead."

"I've been thinking."

"What else is new?"

"Shut up and listen. This is serious."

"Sorry. Go on."

"Those changes I said I was going to make? I've decided on the first one. You've heard of Dr. Jerrold Hamilton out of New York Mercy?"

"The pain management czar? Of course. You're thinking of making an appointment to see him?"

"I've already been."

"When was this and why didn't you tell me?"

"Last Tuesday," House replies. "You were in surgery all day. I needed to do this alone. He says there's a very good chance he can help me."

Wilson lies next to him, an arm and leg still wrapped around him. "That's great news! I'm proud of you, House."

"Yeah, well, that's not the whole story."

"Go on."

"He wants me opiate-free, at least to start. So he can assess which drugs or non-drug techniques work best with a clean slate."

"And you've decided…?"

"I did it once before and survived."

Wilson grins, lifts up on his elbow, kisses House.

"Rapid detox, this time," House tells him when their lips part. "He wants me to go back to therapy."

"If you tell me you're going to do it, I'll let you decide what we do sexually for the next month," Wilson murmurs.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"I have an appointment with Nolan on Tuesday. No promises. He was dead wrong before and pissed me off."

"He's only human. Therapists make mistakes too. You were doing better when you actually kept your appointments with him. If he doesn't work out, there are other therapists."

"Yeah."

A long moment passes between them in silence.

"What's wrong?"

"Hamilton knows about us. He suggested that we both get counseling because pain management can put unexpected pressures on relationships, especially at first."

"You mean, couple's counseling?"

"At least."

"He wants me to do personal counseling, too?"

"He says you might find it…beneficial."

"I don't know, House."

"Why? Because you're Mr. Altogether?"

"No. Because I'm uncomfortable with it."

"Why? You've gone to a shrink before, even took antidepressants. What's different now?"

"We're different."

"Huh?"

"I don't really want to talk about it. Let's just say I had an negative encounter with the last psychiatrist I saw."

"Psychiatrists are human and make mistakes too, Wilson."

"Cute."

"What did he do, tell you that you're sexually repressed or some damned ridiculous thing?"

"_She_ told me to have nothing more to do with you after you went to prison. In fact, the theme of every session was about dumping you as my friend and writing you off for good. The stupid thing is, I listened. I tried."

"You failed."

"I did. And I'm glad. Our last session ended with her hitting on me. I felt violated. Go ahead."

"Go ahead with what?"

"With whatever wisecrack you have about that."

"Sorry, haven't got one."

"Really?"

"I'm not always an ass, Wilson."

"Hm…maybe you're not."

"Just _maybe_?"

"So you have nothing to say about the fact that I felt violated?"

"You felt what you felt, Wilson. She had no right to take advantage of her position with you that way. Tell me you reported her."

There is silence as Wilson's gaze shifts away to middle space.

"You didn't report her. Too much shame?"

More silence.

"She was in the wrong, not you. It's her shame, not yours. You do see how you're displaying classic victim behavior, don't you?"

"I…guess."

"You guess?" House sighs, kisses Wilson gently, pulls him close. "Report her before she makes another guy feel the way she made you."

"It's embarrassing."

"Your entire collection of ties is embarrassing—you still wear them. If you had a patient who had been victimized by another doctor the way you were, what would you tell him or her?"

"To report it," Wilson concedes then sighs, relaxes in House's arms. "You're right. I'll do it."

"Tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow morning. So when are you planning to undergo detox?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"And you're just telling me _now_? House!"

"Surprise?"

"You're being an ass again."

"Old habits die-hard. Speaking about being hard…get over here."

"Lousy segue."

"Shut up and put that mouth to better use elsewhere. I'm in command for a month, remember?"

**Chapter 1**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (3/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1550

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Three**

"Here's that broth I promised. Do you need help sitting up?"

"I'm not a baby. I don't think I'll be able to keep it down."

House sits up in bed slowly, wincing. Wilson places the tray with House's broth before him, sits on the edge of the bed.

"Cramping still bad?"

"The muscle relaxants and Ativan are helping. So much for _rapid_ detox."

"Well, you knew going into it that some people still experience mild withdrawal symptoms for a day or two after the procedure."

"If you tell me that it could be worse I'll throw my bowl at you."

"In that case, I won't. How's your leg?"

"Bitchy, but the heating pad and Ibuprofen are helping a little."

"Would a massage help?"

"Do you even remember how? It's been a long time since the infarction."

"I've heard its like riding a bicycle or having sex. Once you've learned how you never really forget."

"Well, no sex for me tonight."

"I know. It's okay. About that massage?"

"…Okay. After I try to get my broth to stay down."

"Fair enough."

"Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat."

"Yes. I like watching you do things. Also, I got word back from my parents. I guess David and his wife are throwing an open house for Mom and Dad's fiftieth anniversary next month. I'm supposed to come and bring a date."

"Do we have to go?"

"I know how much you love social gatherings but regardless, yes, I'd like you to come with me."

"As your best friend or as your lover?"

"Why can't you come as both? I thought we could go a day or two early and break the news to my family. If they react badly, we won't have to stay for the anniversary celebration. I'm not ashamed of us, House, and I want my family to know just how much you mean to me."

"You sure about that? What if your family decides to disown you?"

"Then I'll have fewer Hanukkah presents to buy this year."

"Nice. You realize our relationship has two strikes going against it."

"How so?"

"Not only are you schtupping a man, but said man has a foreskin. I'm goy, which I'm certain is going to thrill your mother."

"That part won't bother her as much as you think. Neither Sam nor Julie were Jewish, nor did they convert, and my mom accepted them about as well as she would accept anyone marrying one of her sons. The fact that you're a gentile won't be an issue."

"Wilson, take the broth away. I…I can't eat it."

"Okay." Wilson takes the tray and returns it to the kitchen. He returns shortly to find House lying down again, a look of discomfort on his face, droplets of perspiration on his brow.

"When do you see Hamilton next?"

"Monday morning."

"So you have the weekend to survive on just muscle relaxants, Ativan and ibuprofen?"

"Hey, it's better than the last time I was off opiates and only had ibuprofen. I can do it."

"I know you can. Have I told you today how proud I am of you?"

"Yes. Thanks, Wilson."

"Thank you for doing this for yourself as much as you are for me. Ready for that massage?"

"Yes."

Wilson uncovers House's bad leg, unwraps the heating pad and towel until his thigh is exposed. Wilson reaches into the bedside table drawer and pulls out some massage oil. He warms some in his hand before applying it to House's leg. He begins to massage at the tortured muscles. House winces at first, but gradually he relaxes and begins to enjoy it.

"Hm, better," House tells him drowsily.

"Good. Has Hamilton suggested trigger point injections?"

"Yes, that's one option he suggested. Another one was Methadone."

"House, no!"

"Wilson, he's an expert in the use of Methadone for pain control. My doses would be carefully measured and controlled. I'd be blood tested regularly and it would actually be easier on my liver than both ibuprofen and acetaminophen. The doses could also be adjusted so that I don't feel mentally dulled. That's just one possible treatment option. I believe he wants to try non-narcotic methods before heading in that direction."

"So, are you going to keep off the alcohol as well as the drugs?"

"That's what both Hamilton and Nolan want."

"You haven't answered my question."

House is silent in thought for a few moments. "My liver enzymes were up when Hamilton ran a battery of lab tests on me. Nothing critical yet, but it could easily become critical."

"So is that a yes?"

"…Yes."

"You were hesitant."

"Because I'm going to try, but I can't guarantee I'll be able to avoid booze as well as Vicodin."

"House, you're an addict and alcohol is addictive, too. Of course it's going to be a challenge, but I think you're up to it. If it means sparing your liver, it will be worth it, don't you think?"

House is silent, avoiding Wilson's gaze.

"House? Hey, look, I believe in you."

"That may be foolish."

"I don't think so. Just the fact that you took the initiative to do all of this without my dragging you to your appointments gives me hope. It should give you hope too."

"I guess so. We'll see. Mm, that feels good. Keep it up."

"Right here?"

"Ah! Yes, that's the spot. Too bad I'm too sick to get it up. You could expand that massage to more interesting parts of my anatomy."

"I'm sure. So about my parents' anniversary?"

"Where is this being held?"

"Chicago. David lives in Minneapolis but he and Betty are going to rent a hall close to where Mom and Dad live to make it easier on them. All of their friends are now in Chicago, anyway. Dad doesn't sleep well unless he's in his own bed."

"Are we going to get permission from my parole officer or go on the sly and risk it?"

"It's not for another four weeks. I'm hopeful that if we give your parole officer plenty of notice he'll be accommodating."

"You obviously haven't met the man. He's about as accommodating as a brick wall."

"Well, we can try, anyway."

House sighs. "Okay. We'll do it. I'm warning you, though: Anyone who tries to hurt you because we're in a gay relationship is fair game for my fist and my cane."

"That's what I was afraid of. I'm willing to risk it. If they won't accept you then they don't get me, either. We're a package deal."

"You mean that, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

"Even if I feel you up in front of your jack-ass brother?"

"Especially then."

"Cool. Is Danny going to be there?"

"No…no, I don't think so. He's…well, I received word that he's back in the hospital. He wasn't taking his meds regularly at the halfway house so he was readmitted. I really doubt he could get a pass to go, now. It's too bad; it would have been nice to have the whole family there."

"Nice is not the word I would choose to use when it comes to your family, Wilson."

"You're one to talk. You're family is stranger than mine."

"Are you calling my mom strange?"

"More like…interesting."

"Oh, well, I'll grant you that. By the way…I know you lied about the results of that paternity test you ran on my mother's husband."

"House, I didn't—"

"Wilson, do you honestly believe you were the only one to think about running a test on the man while he was here?"

Wilson is silent a moment before sighing. "Damn. I should have known."

"What I want to know is _why_ you lied?"

"You obviously hate Thomas. You won't even call him by name; you always refer to him as your mother's husband. I thought I would spare you some discomfort."

"I don't _hate_ him. I don't really feel much of anything about him. But birthmarks don't lie."

"No, they don't. I'm sorry for trying to deceive you, House."

"It's okay. So he's my biological father. I suppose I can live with it, especially if he makes Mom happy."

"So did you want to tell Blythe and Thomas before my parents or after?"

"Mom wants me—meaning us—to spend Christmas in Kentucky with her and her hus—I mean, Thomas. I figure that's soon enough. No point in enduring too many family reunions."

"So we're actually going to Kentucky?"

"I guess so. Little changes, Wilson."

"Little changes, House."


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (4/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1300

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Four**

"Do you mind if I read a while longer? It's really quite fascinating."

"You never asked me how my appointment with Nolan went."

"I didn't think you'd want to talk about it, but if you do then I'm interested."

"You always want to talk about stuff like that."

"You're right, and you've got my attention. See? I'm putting this journal aside. So what happened?"

"I just find it odd that you didn't ask on your own. You've been quiet all evening, like there's something wrong but you don't want to talk about it."

"Nothing's wrong. It was just a long day and I'm a little tired."

"Too tired to ask me about my appointment but not too tired to read."

Wilson sighs, shakes his head. "House, what are you getting at?"

"Something's wrong, something you don't want to tell me. You thought that if you asked me about my day the conversation would get around to how your day was eventually and you were hoping to avoid talking about it."

"Your convoluted logic astounds me sometimes, you know that?"

"And now you're deflecting. If you don't tell me then I'll have to investigate the matter on my own."

"God forbid! I'm not trying to hide anything."

"So tell me what happened today that you're avoiding talking about."

"I'm not trying to avoid—oh, you know, forget it! Fine, you want to know about my day? I'll tell you about my day. I had three patient appointments this morning, two of which were referrals. Then I had a department meeting followed by lunch in my office where I was busy getting a requisition report done to send to Finance by the deadline this afternoon. You were busy with your case so I didn't bother stopping by to see if you wanted to have lunch with me. In the afternoon I had rounds followed by three hours in the clinic and then back to my office to complete some more paperwork so I wouldn't have to bring any home with me. Like I said, it was a busy day but nothing out of the ordinary."

"I happen to know that one of your appointments this morning was rescheduled and you were away from your office. Your P.A. wouldn't tell me where you had gone, which in itself wasn't unusual but what was unusual was her lack of patience with me."

"You do have a way of trying people's patience at times, you know."

"She's used to me by now. Besides, you're deflecting. Where were you for that hour?"

"House, this is ridicu—"

"Wilson. Where. Were. You?"

Wilson stares at the far wall from his place in bed next to House. He takes a deep breath and exhales.

"I was filing a formal complaint against my former psychiatrist."

"You could have done that from your office. Where else did you go?"

"Who says I went anywhere else?"

"You're avoiding the question which means you're trying to hide something."

Wilson says nothing, still avoiding House's gaze.

"Wilson? You went to see your former shrink before you filed the complaint, didn't you?"

"…I thought she should know that I was filing one against her."

"She would have found out when she was contacted by the ethics board. You felt the need to tell her personally which I find interesting."

"I'm so glad that I amuse you. Now can we drop it and get on to how _your_ day went?"

"Not quite yet. Why did you feel you had to notify her personally? What haven't you told me? I'll find out, one way or another."

Wilson is silent.

"Wilson?"

"I just wanted to make certain it wasn't my fault," Wilson whispers softly.

"What was that?"

"I wanted to make certain that what had happened at our last session wasn't my fault, or a misunderstanding," Wilson says a little more loudly.

"Why would you think it was your fault?"

"It's…complicated."

"I've got all night. Explain it to me."

"Well…you know how I am. I flirt…a lot. I just wanted to be certain that I hadn't sent her a mixed signal."

"Did you flirt with her, Wilson?"

"I…she says I did. I don't remember it that way, but it is possible I may have inadvertently—"

"Bullshit, Wilson. You didn't flirt with her. You flirt intentionally. It's part of who you are, the persona you wear, but you're always aware of it and don't tell me you're not. If you had flirted you would have remembered it. Victims often blame themselves when it's not their fault. Even if you had flirted, she was still out of line flirting back. The fact that she hit on you still puts her in the blame since as your therapist she knew that was unacceptable behavior. I suppose she told you that it was your fault, that you did give her reason to believe it would be acceptable for her to behave the way she did?"

"She suggested that I asked for it."

"Of course she did. That doesn't make it true."

"I know. I _do_ know that, and I told her so. Then I told her that I was filing a formal complaint. She told me that no one would take it seriously. She also said it would be unfortunate if during the investigation word about my sexual preferences happened to get out."

"Nice."

"I told her that she could go ahead and take out a full page ad in the paper announcing it if she wanted because I had already come out to friends and colleagues. She called me a liar and a few other choice things. That's it. I left after that."

"So why were you afraid to tell me?"

"I wasn't afraid to tell you. I just didn't want to get into it because it's not important. She's wrong, I'm right. I filed the complaint, end of story. I just didn't want to rehash it all because the experience was unpleasant."

"Hm."

"Hm? What does 'hm' mean?"

"Nothing. It should be interesting to hear how she tries to defend her actions, that's all."

"I'm not looking forward to the inquiry, if it even gets that far. Now. How was your appointment with Nolan?"

"I told him that we were lovers. After he recovered from the surprise he told me that there was a lot I had been keeping from him that year after Mayfield that might have made a difference in how he was interpreting what I _did_ tell him."

"I think he may have a point there. After all, you were in love with me the entire time you were pursuing Cuddy. If you failed to include that little tidbit of information it only makes sense that he might be off in his medical advice to you, don't you think?"

"Perhaps."

"So the session was productive?"

"Difficult to say, but I did book another one, if that's what you're wondering."

"Good. I think it will help you—that is, so long as you start telling Nolan the whole truth. Garbage in, garbage out, you know."

"Yeah, whatever. So…you want to fuck or what?"

"Well, when you sweet talk me like that, how could I possibly resist you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (5/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1500

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: NC-17 (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

**Please note that this chapter contains explicit adult sexual material.**

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Five**

"Wilson!"

House is in bed, waiting for Wilson, who is finishing up some paperwork in the den, which used to be House's bedroom when he lived with Wilson at the loft.

"Wilson, come to bed!"

Wilson opens the bedroom door and enters looking perturbed. "Must you bellow at this time of night? I have neighbors, you know!"

"Don't care. It's time for you to put away the paperwork and come play."

"You're feeling better."

"Yup. The leg's at a two, I'm over withdrawal, and I solved a difficult case with my genius skills. Now I want to celebrate. Come to bed."

"I'll be coming to bed in about ten minutes."

"No, now!"

Wilson heads for door. "Ten minutes."

"Wi-i-lso-on!"

"Quit whining like a two year old."

"I'm horny right now. I've got a fifty-three year old cock. I may not still be horny in ten minutes."

"House, if I don't get this work done tonight Foreman is going to have my head in the morning."

"If you come to bed now I'll _give_ you head in the morning."

"Sure you will. That would require you to wake up before the last second necessary to get to work before ten."

"Wilson, I need you." House sounds earnest. Wilson is skeptical.

"Oh…okay. Fine. Let me go turn the light off in the den."

Wilson leaves the room. House smiles smugly, quickly removing his t-shirt and boxers. Wilson returns.

"Eager beaver, aren't you?"

"You mean cock," House corrects. Wilson begins to undress.

"No! Let me undress you!"

"Okay."

House gets out of bed, approaches Wilson sans cane (which is leaning against the wall near the bed) and pulls him into a kiss. His hands run over Wilson's body, over his clothes. Wilson moans softly, wrapping his arms around House and deepening the kiss. His hands slowly move to House's ass, cupping the cheeks and squeezing. House pulls out of the kiss and begins to unbutton Wilson's shirt, stopping to kiss each inch of flesh as it is exposed. He removes Wilson's shirt then attacks his shoulder with his lips and teeth, sucking. Wilson's hands roam House's body. Their breathing increases with their excitement. House's hands go to Wilson's crotch, cupping Wilson's balls with his hands through the material of his slacks.

"Those have to come off," House half-growls and he proceeds to remove Wilson's pants. They drop around Wilson's ankles, and he kicks them off. Next the boxers are removed. House grinds his cock against Wilson's as he pulls Wilson onto the bed.

"Oh, fuck, House!"

"That's what I'm aiming for."

"Oh—oh, right there, I…ah!"

Grunts and moans, filthy whispers are exchanged as they make out. Wilson is on top, he grinds his pelvis against House's.

"Top or bottom, House?"

"Mm, Ji-i-mmy, bottom…fuck me!"

A drawer in a bedside table is opened and shut. Wilson prepares House, who then rolls over to his stomach; Wilson likes taking him from behind sometimes. When House is ready Wilson sinks his member into him completely, moaning softly at the same time as his lover. They lie pressed together like that for a moment or two before Wilson withdraws nearly completely then plunges in harder this time.

"Fuck yes! Harder!"

"I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress, House. I'm gonna tear you open!"

"G-god, Jimmy, yes. Fuck yes, yes, yes harder!"

"You're so goddamned tight! So per-perfect."

Their lovemaking escalates as does the volume and frequency of their outbursts, moans, groans. Wilson seems unconcerned about disturbing the neighbors now. Harder and harder he pounds into House, and House takes it all and begs for more until Wilson explodes into House, shooting his seed inside of him. He has a hand on House's cock, still pumping him and seconds later House comes all over the bed and him with a short, unintelligible shout. He collapses completely, not caring about the mess; Wilson is on House's back, clinging as if for dear life and yet relaxed at the same time. His hot breath tickles House's neck but House says nothing about it. They cannot find the strength for words for several minutes, much less for movement.

Wilson has softened and pulled out of House. He eventually slides off to lie on his back next to House. House moans softly as he rolls over to his side to face Wilson. Wilson slowly moves off the bed.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"I'm going to get a damp cloth. I'll be right back."

Wilson goes to the bathroom and a few seconds later returns with a warm, damp facecloth. He proceeds to clean up House and then himself; he returns the cloth to the bathroom. He crawls back into bed, and House pulls him closely to him, holding him as if afraid he might run away.

"Clingy much?"

"I don't like you leaving right after."

"It was just for a few seconds."

"Don't care. Need you to stay with me."

"I'm here now. Relax, House, I'm not going anywhere."

"Everybody leaves."

"Hey! Shh…House, it's okay. I'm not leaving you."

"You better not, or I'll hunt you down, drag you back and chain you to the bed."

"Sounds romantic. I didn't realize it would bother you so much."

"I just like you to stay close after. If you tell anyone about this I'll melt your hairdryer in the fireplace."

"I won't tell anyone. House…did your parents ever abandon you for a period of time as a child."

"Not every neurosis is linked to one's childhood, Wilson."

"Just answer my question."

"Why?"

"Because I'm curious. Surely you can appreciate that."

"…Yes."

"Yes, you can appreciate that or yes, they abandoned you?"

"Both. I was three. It was an accident, my fault. We had gone to church for a holiday service—Christmastime. They were handing out treat bags to the kids before they left. My parents put me in the car but I snuck out and went back for seconds. When I headed back to our car, it was gone from the parking lot. Everybody was leaving and I couldn't find Mom or Dad. They must have figured I was sleeping in the blankets in the back seat. Finally I was the only one left in the lobby save for the pastor of the church, who was about to turn off the lights and leave himself when he saw me. There weren't cellphones back then, so he couldn't just call my parents in their car.

"Turns out they realized when they were half-way home that I wasn't in the back seat. They turned around and came back. Mom was apologetic to the pastor and me. John was pissed and yelled at me in the car on the way home but I didn't care. I sat up in the front and clung to Mom the entire way."

"That must have been really frightening."

House shrugs. "It was a long time ago."

"Yet you still remember it so vividly."

"Doesn't mean anything."

"I think it does."

"You're not going to get psychoanalytical on me now, are you? Because if so I'm going to sleep."

"No. Not now, anyway. You've lost a lot of people, haven't you?"

"No more or less than anyone else. Can we not talk and just…you know…"

"Cuddle?"

"I _don't_ cuddle."

"I'm sorry but I have to inform you that what we are doing now qualifies as cuddling."

"Hmph. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Were you ever abandoned as a kid?"

"Not that I remember, no. I was more likely to be ignored than abandoned."

"How do you mean?"

"I thought you wanted us to be quiet?"

House is silent. Wilson waits a moment, then answers. "David was fairly rebellious and gave my parents a hard time when he was a teenager. Danny was sickly and emotionally fragile, even back then. My parents were so busy dealing with them they forgot all about me. I tried to get their attention with my grades and helping Mom out around the house but…but they were so distracted by my brothers I was ignored."

"That sucks."

"Yeah, it does. But like you said, that was a long time ago. Still, my parents have more to do with David than they do with me even to this day."

"Wilson?"

"Yes?"

"I like cuddling with you. Just don't tell anyone."

"Your secret is safe with me...and I'm not going to leave you, House."

"Don't make promises you may not be able to keep."

"Are you talking about the cancer coming back?"

Again House is silent, but he squeezes Wilson a little tighter.

"If it's in my power, House, I'm sticking around for the long run. Okay?"

"Okay. Quiet now. I want to sleep."


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (6/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1160

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Neither Mr. Rogers nor his neighborhood belongs to me and he was my favorite program when I was little, so I mean no harm to his name or reputation.

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Six**

"_Are you still not talking to me? Wilson, don't hang up the phone!"_

"House, I'm really not in the mood to talk about this right now."

"_I just don't understand what the big deal is? So I insulted the couple's counselor—I insult everyone, and this wasn't even to his face!_"

"You said he acted like Mr. Roger's, House. You have no respect for him or for the counseling for that matter."

"_Only because we don't need counseling. It was just Dr. Hamilton's dumb idea._"

"So why did you even mention it to me if you weren't going to take it seriously?"

"_I don't know…look, do you think we need counseling?_"

"I think it couldn't hurt. Things are fine between us right now, but learning better communications skills could really help us later on."

"_Are you anticipating trouble ahead_?"

"House, neither of us has the greatest track record when it comes to relationships."

"_So you_ are _anticipating trouble_."

"I didn't say that! Look, I've had a long day, I have a migraine coming on, and I don't feel like having this conversation right now."

"_I thought you wanted to improve our communication._"

"You're not funny."

"_I'm not trying to be. Look, that counselor talked to us like we were children, that's why I called him Mr. Rogers. That and the fact that he was wearing Mr. Roger's sweater. I swear he stole it from PBS._"

"House, enough! I'm hanging up!"

"_No, don't! What do you want me to say?_"

"'Sorry' would be a good start."

"_But I'm not sorry._"

"Goodnight, House."

"_I don't want to sleep alone tonight._"

"You should have thought of that before you made a mockery of our counseling session."

"_I didn't make a mockery of the session. I made a mockery of the counselor._"

"Oh, well, that's different then."

"_Seriously?_"

"No, not seriously." Wilson sighed heavily. "Are you serious about our relationship?"

"_What kind of question is that?_"

"A valid one, considering what happened tonight."

"_Nothing happened. I made a crack about our counselor. I take our relationship seriously but that guy, that Dr. Putrid—_"

"Petrie, House. His name is Dr. Petrie."

"_He seemed more like Putrid to me._"

"I'm hanging up now."

"_Fine, but after you do can you open the apartment door? I'm standing out here in the corridor._"

"You're not calling from home?"

"_Didn't I just say that?_"

"Where's the key you copied when you stole my keys?"

"_I forgot it back at my apartment._"

"Maybe I just don't want to see you tonight."

"_Dr. Putrid said communication is key to a good relationship, Wilson. I think we need to communicate. Let me in._"

"You don't want communication, you want sex."

"_Sex is a form of communication. It's body language._"

"Go home, House."

"_If you don't let me in I'll start serenading you as loudly as I possibly can. I'm certain your neighbors would appreciate it—not! They might call the cops and I'll be sent back to prison just for wanting to be with the man I love._"

"House, beside the word 'manipulative' in the dictionary is a picture of your face. Goodnight—"

"'—_I love you truly, truly dear, Life with its sorrow, life with its tears. Fades into dreams when I feel you are near. For I love you truly, truly dear._

_Ah! Love, 'tis something to feel your kind hand. Ah! Yes, 'tis something by your side to stand; gone is the sorrow, gone doubt and fear, For you love me truly, truly dear!'_"

"You can sing until the cows come home, for all I care. It's not gonna work, House."

"_Wilson—oh, for Christ's sake—okay. Our relationship is very important to me. I…I'm sorry._"

"No you're not, you're just saying it."

"_Wilson, what the hell do you want from me?_"

"I want the truth."

"_The truth is our relationship is more important to me than anything else, but I think we can do better than that quack in the sweater. Come on, Wilson, let me in before your neighbors call the cops._"

Wilson sighs. "Fine." He hangs up his phone, crawls out of bed and pulls on a robe, then pads barefoot across the loft to the front door. He unlocks it and opens it. House stands there. Wilson steps back and allows House into the loft before shutting and locking the door again.

"You're all wet."

"It's raining outside."

"Take off your wet clothes and I'll bring you something dry to wear."

"Don't bother, I'll just be taking them off again before long."

Wilson shrugs, heads back to his bedroom. House hangs his jacket in the foyer then follows. He catches up, grabs Wilson's arm and turns him to face him. Slowly he leans in for a chaste kiss and Wilson allows him.

"What are you afraid of?" House asks gently.

"Nothing. It's just—"

"You've got a lot riding on this relationship working."

"We both do."

"I know. If anything happens between us, I can't go to my best friend for commiseration because my bed friend is you. But you can't fix that by freaking out and pushing me away…unless you want us to go back to just being friends. Is that what you want, Wilson?"

"We couldn't do that even if I did want that, which I don't. This is it House. This works or I spend the rest of my life alone."

"Me, too. It _will_ work. Just don't get frightened by the little things. Admit it, you think Dr. Petrie-dish looks like Mr. Rogers, too."

"You got his name right, sort of." Wilson sighs. "Yeah, I guess he does."

"See? We're on the same track again."

"Just don't you ever say that to his face."

"I won't because we're going to find a different therapist. This guy looks like he should be driving a white paneled van scooping up little kids."

"He does, doesn't he?"

"Are we good?"

"We're good. Come to bed."

"I thought you'd never ask."


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (7/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Seven**

They lay reclined on the hotel room bed watching Letterman, their arms touching, but not in an embrace. It is not too unlike how they used to sit before they became lovers, with the exception, however, that they are both only partially clad in their underwear.

"I don't even find his Top Ten list funny."

"The guy's better than Leno."

"No, he's more cerebral than Leno but that doesn't make him better."

"Cerebral makes everything better."

"You would think that."

"Would you quit doing that with your hands? It's an annoying habit."

"Sorry."

"Look, I know you're worried about tomorrow, but no matter what happens we'll be okay."

"Easy for you to say. It's not your mother and father we're coming out to. I really don't think telling them during brunch is the best idea."

"It's a great idea. Look, David and his wife will be there—"

"Betty."

"What?"

"His wife's name is Betty, from Elizabeth. You should know that."

"You cut me off just to tell me her name?"

"Sorry. Go on."

House sighs in exasperation. He puts the TV on mute. "Everybody will be there. We'll be in public so when we tell them your mom and dad aren't likely to cause a scene and David probably won't be drunk yet so he'll probably behave himself, too. Things are less likely to come to blows if we're in a public place."

"My mother could faint, or my father could have a heart attack—it runs in the family."

"In either case we're doctors, we know what to do if that should happen, which they won't. If they do cause a scene we have buffers in the form of other patrons and management to break it up. We'll come off looking good, they'll come off looking as bigots."

"My family is not a tribe of bigots, House."

"If they react badly, they're bigots."

"You're not nervous at all, are you?"

"Do you even know me? I don't care what they think about me and you shouldn't either. You may crave their approval, but you don't need it."

"I wonder if you'll be this blasé about it all come Christmas and we break the news to Blythe and Thomas."

"I wasn't afraid to introduce Dominika as my phony wife to them, was I?"

"She was a woman."

"Really? I hadn't noticed. That explains a lot…"

"Joke about it, but if she had been a man—"

"I wouldn't have felt any differently."

"You only introduced Dominika to them to shock them."

"True, but there was still a risk of Mom not approving. I couldn't care less what Tommy thinks."

"You were _looking_ for disapproval, House. That was the point. You wanted to get back at your mom for her not telling you that she got married again and for not telling you that John wasn't your father. You exposed yourself to her in public to prove a point. You were disappointed when you didn't get a bigger reaction from her."

"If that were true I would have told them that we were lovers."

"But we weren't yet."

"Yeah, we know that, but Mom and Doofus didn't."

"Thomas."

"Same shit, different pile." House puts an arm around Wilson's shoulder, half hugging him. "Nothing you do now is going to change the fact that your parents were idiots when you were a kid. If you couldn't impress them then, then what makes you think you can now?"

"That's the point, House. They're already disappointed in me because of my failed marriages and lack of offspring. I'm chief of oncology at an Ivy League hospital and they couldn't care less. I just…oh never mind."

"You just don't want to add to their disappointment. That's what you were going to say, right?"

"Something like that."

"You can't disappoint people who aren't expecting anything to begin with."

"Thanks a lot."

"Listen, they were never impressed by you, even though they had reason to be if they had only had their heads out of their asses long enough to realize it. They're not going to suddenly change. It's not a reflection on you; it's a reflection on them, on the fact that they are morons and you don't need the approval of morons. One of the things you said you wanted to change was your need to be approved of by everyone. Here's your chance to do that. If it helps to know it, I think you're good enough for me."

"Since when did you become such an expert on relationships?"

"Since it has nothing to do with any of my hang-ups."

"Ah ha! So you admit that you have some. It's a start."

"Baby-steps. Ooh, stupid human tricks!"

House unmutes the TV and they watch in silence for a while. Wilson, bored with watching TV, slowly slips his hand onto House's good thigh and slowly but surely moves up toward the hem of House's boxers. House looks at him surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye but otherwise does not react. Wilson's fingertips slide under the hem and begin to rub little circles as they move further toward House's groin.

"You sure you want to be starting something I'll expect to be finished spectacularly?" House asks him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "After all, David and Betsy are just next door and you get pretty vocal when you get excited."

"Well," Wilson says with a sigh, "maybe if we're loud enough, they'll tell Mom and Dad for us before we get to the restaurant tomorrow morning and save us the bother."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Only if you want to take it that way. I'm just horny and you're looking good at the moment."

"So you're just using me as a sex object."

"Well…yes, yes I am."

"Not surprisingly, I'm okay with that."


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (8/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Eight**

"Here's some ice to put on it; it should help reduce the swelling."

"Ouch!"

"Sorry. I still think we should have allowed the ambulance to take you to the hospital to get your hand X-rayed."

"We can do that when we get back to Princeton. Besides, I don't think I broke anything; it's just badly bruised."

"You want to spend the entire weekend and then fly all the way back to New Jersey with a wrist that you might have fractured? Going for a matching pair? Don't be an idiot. I'm calling a cab."

"No! Wait…please, I don't want to make a big deal out of this. It's humiliating enough."

"You're not the one with two missing teeth, a smashed nose, and a broken jaw. David's the one who was humiliated."

"I can't believe I brawled with my brother a day before our parents' fiftieth anniversary."

"Well don't ask me to feel sorry about it. If you hadn't stopped him he would have broken my cane across my neck. You're my hero, James Wilson!"

"You're not funny."

"What? I'm serious. I've never seen you so angry. For a moment there I thought the cops were going to have to take you in, but you managed to calm yourself enough they didn't have to. He could have killed me, Wilson."

"I think that's what he was aiming for. He has always been a bully, but I never thought he would actually react that way. Still, I should have tried to reason with him. Violence is just so…"

"Messy?"

"I was going to say _unnecessary_, but that works, too."

"If it makes you feel better, it was a real turn-on to watch you punch the shit out of David. Where did you learn those boxing moves, anyway?"

"I learned them the hard way—from growing up with David as an older brother."

"Oh."

"I have no idea what I'm going to tell my parents when they find out about this. The worst part is that almost everybody in this hotel has to have seen us naked before it was all over. If that's not humiliating, I don't know what you'd call it."

"It'll probably make the morning news. I'm pretty certain I saw someone with a video camera in the crowd of onlookers. But hey, you've lost the pudge and I think you're hot when you're naked, so there's that."

"You're not helping me feel better."

"Oh, is that what I was supposed to be doing?"

"I should have listened to you."

"Yes. You should have. Which time in particular are we talking about?"

"Would you stop kidding around? I've potentially ruined my parents' celebration!"

"Funny, I'm pretty certain it was David who started it. If I remember correctly, I was in the middle of fucking you when he started banging on the door. I told you that you get vocal when you're getting close to coming. I wanted to ignore him but nooo, you had to answer it."

"I know, I know…I fucked up. I'm sorry, House."

"There's no reason for you to be apologizing to _me_. When he began swinging my cane I figured I wasn't going to get out of this in one piece. Then you popped him one right in the beak. As someone who's been on the receiving end of one of your punches—"

"I don't need the verbal replay or the reminder," Wilson cuts him off. "I was there, I know what I did. I went insane. I'm so ashamed."

"You may have saved my life, Wilson. Are you ashamed of that, too?"

"Of course not, but—"

"David was not in any mood to verbally negotiate with you. He was out to beat 'the fucking fag' doing you. After he finished with me he would have gone on to beating the 'homo' out of you, too. That's what people like him do when they're in a bigoted rage. You protected someone you love from a bone-headed maniac. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and for Christ's sake stop with the self-guilt!"

"You know who I really feel badly for? Betty. She's the one who has to live with David after this."

"I don't."

"House—"

"Wilson, she is a grown woman with no known disabilities who has chosen to remain living with that jerk in spite of his drinking and violent outbursts."

"It's not that easy to break free from a situation such as hers. I promised her a long time ago I wouldn't tell everything she told me, but she's in a bad situation and leaving him would cause her an entirely new set of troubles."

"He beats her."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to—it's written all over the caring in your eyes."

"I've encouraged her in the past to leave him, even offered to help her financially until she could get on her feet; there's not only her—they have two prepubescent kids. She did leave once, when the kids were younger but…David stalked her, threatened her. She got a restraining order, he broke it and the local police did nothing to help her. He literally drove her to an emotional breakdown. She had to be hospitalized. When she was finally discharged, David did something—she wouldn't tell me what—to terrify her into staying with him again. My gut tells me it had something to do with the children. He probably convinced her that if there was a divorce he would see to it that she never saw the kids again. It's easy to say she has a choice, House, but sometimes it comes down to having to choose the lesser of two evils. I guess staying with him in her case is the lesser one."

"Being beaten by a moron is not the lesser of two evils. She could end up dead. Does he touch the children?"

"She says he doesn't, that she would send them away into hiding if she thought he was a danger to them."

"Well, it's completely wholesome to witness one's father beat one's mother, just so long as daddy doesn't beat them."

"I know it's fucked up."

"Yeah."

"I guess I should call Mom and Dad and let them know that there's been a change in plans for tomorrow morning."

"You don't think they already know?"

"That's why I need to call them…to come out to them now, before David distorts everything."

"Okay."

"You're okay with it?"

"Yup. Right behind you, my hero."

"Thanks, House."


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (9/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1500

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Nine**

Wilson, fully dressed, answers the knock on their hotel room door. It is six thirty in the morning. On the other side of the door are his parents whom he had convinced to come so he could tell them his story of what had happened between David, House, and him. They look surprised when they see House, in his bathrobe, standing just behind Wilson.

"Hi Mom, Dad. Come in. Thank you for coming. I'm sorry about the hour but it couldn't wait and I needed to talk to you immediately and in person."

"We heard about the fight between you and David from Betty," Mrs. Wilson tells him. Wilson ushers his parents into the small sitting area in the suite. "Dr. House, nice to see you again."

House nods once but says nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson sit on a loveseat. Wilson sits on the edge of the armchair, his body rigid with anxiety. House stands at his side, just behind his left shoulder, not touching but close enough that Wilson can feel his body heat, which is comforting.

"Did she tell you what the fight was about?" Wilson asks, fighting to hide his nervousness.

"She said you were carrying on in here with someone, disturbing their sleep. David had been drinking and he decided to come over to shut you up when he found that you weren't alone," Mr. Wilson informed him. "The girl, is she still here?"

Wilson feels House inch closer to him, still not touching but only a hair's breadth away from it.

"Uh, no, Dad. There was no girl. See…this is really hard and it's not easy to say…David caught me here with House."

Mrs. Wilson frowns, shaking her head. "I don't understand."

Mr. Wilson looks up at House with an inscrutable expression. House gazes back defiantly.

"Uh, see," Wilson continues, "I was making noise but it was with House."

"But Betty said you were having sex…"

"I was," Wilson answers, blushing. "See, Mom, Dad, I'm…bisexual and so is House and…and he's my partner. We're in love and after years of denial we've finally formed a relationship."

A moment of silence so still that a hair could be heard falling to the floor.

"You mean, you're…you're gay?"

"Yes, Dad. Well, half-gay. I am attracted to both women and men. Mostly to women, but…but I'm in love with House and we are in an intimate, sexual relationship. I know that this must be a shock to you—"

"For how long?" Mrs. Wilson asks, looking up at House.

"Uh, for about a month and a half, now, though, as you know, House and I have been friends for over twenty years," Wilson answers. "You…you two don't seem angry."

"Well, we're certainly not thrilled with the idea," Mr. Wilson answered grimly, sighing. "But it explains a few things."

"Are you absolutely positive about this, James?" Mrs. Wilson asks with pleading eyes. Wilson reaches over the space between them to hold her hand.

"Yes, Mom. I've never been more certain."

Mr. Wilson gets up, begins to pace the length of the room. Mrs. Wilson looks at House.

"Do you love my son?"

House meets her gaze. He nods. "Yes, I do."

She mulls this over.

"How am I supposed to tell the family about this?" Mr. Wilson asks, stopping his pacing to look at Wilson. "James, how do I tell your _Bubbe_?"

"Well, you don't have to tell her anything," Wilson replies. "I can tell her. You can mention that I've finally found the love of my life. This one is for keeps. You can tell anyone who asks that I'm happy. If they don't like it well, then…I'm sorry, but that's too bad. I'm not going to give up the happiness I've found with House because they don't like it. It's my life, after all."

"But the family reputation!"

"Please, Dad, not the lecture about the family reputation again! If you care so much about the reputation, do something about David. He came in here tonight, picked up House's cane and nearly clubbed him with it. If I hadn't stepped in he could have been very seriously injured, or even killed. His drinking, his abuse of his wife—"

"There's no proof of that," Mrs. Wilson speaks up.

"Mom, seriously?" Wilson asks. "Everybody in the family knows what kind of violent jerk David can be. It's no secret. My being bisexual and in a relationship with House is nothing compared to that."

"You broke your brother's jaw, James," Mrs. Wilson reminds him.

"I know, Mom. I didn't mean to do that, but I had to protect House. I love him and I wasn't about to let David injure him."

She nods and returns to her fretting.

Mr. Wilson turns to House. "And what do you have to say?"

"I think James has covered everything fine," House replies, still defiant. He places a hand on Wilson's shoulder. Wilson reaches up automatically and places his hand on House's.

"Is this some experimental thing that you're into, that's going to end up hurting my son and his reputation?"

"Dad!"

"I am very serious about my relationship with James," House says, surprising Wilson, who looks up at him with an arching eyebrow. "I have no plans to intentionally hurt him. This isn't some passing fancy or game. I plan on spending the rest of my life with him, whether you like the idea or not."

"Does that mean you…you plan on getting married?" Mrs. Wilson asks. "Is that even legal?"

"Mom, House and I haven't talked about marriage or anything specific about the future," Wilson explains. "We just began our relationship. We're committed to each other, but whether it leads to anything legal remains to be seen."

"Marion, this comes from your side of the family," Mr. Wilson accuses, shaking his head. "Your Uncle Jacob was a little funny, too."

"Dad, it doesn't work that way," Wilson interrupts. "I didn't get it from Great-Uncle Jacob. I'm just…me. I'm James, and I'm bisexual, and I'm in love with my best friend who just happens to be a man. David is a bigot who decided to punish House and me. Please tell me you're not bigots too, because as much as I love both of you I will not apologize for being with House."

"I don't know," Mr. Wilson says. "This…this is too much. I need a stiff drink and time to think about this."

"There's nothing to think about," House speaks up. "James and I are a couple. We have sex. With each other. Frequently. That's not going to change whether or not you decide it's okay. None of this changes the fact that James is your son who loves you. He doesn't need your approval, but he wants it. Personally, I don't give a damn what you think about it so long as you don't hurt him."

"Will you be attending the open house together, as a couple?" Mrs. Wilson asks carefully, looking from Wilson to House and then back to Wilson.

"Yes, Mom," Wilson answers. "I'm not hiding the truth any longer. I promise you we won't be making out on the buffet table, but I'm not going to hide the fact that House is much more to me than just a friend. Are you going to be okay with that?"

Mr. and Mrs. Wilson exchange looks. "Well, Frank?" Mrs. Wilson asks wearily.

"Do we have a choice?" Mr. Wilson responds. "One son arrested for assault, one sick, and the supposedly normal one tells us he's gay. This is what we get in our old age, Marion. Then again, maybe this relationship will be the one he _doesn't_ screw up. God knows the others he brought home to meet us weren't the picks of the litter." He exhales. "Well, we might as well go down to the restaurant for breakfast. All of us. We'll talk more about this then." He looks at Wilson meaningfully before extending a hand to his wife and helping her off the couch. He looks at House. "You better get dressed. We'll meet you down there."

Wilson walks them to the door and watches as they leave the suite. He shuts the door then turns around and leans back against it, shaking his head in wonder.

"That went…much better than I expected."

"Almost too well," House agrees, frowning. Wilson walks up to him and wraps his arms around him, kissing him.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not saying everything you were thinking."


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (10/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, miscellaneous canon and non-canon characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1275

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Ten**

"Hey, you asleep?"

"Mm? Was almost."

"I was thinking."

"It's 12:30 in the morning. We have to be up at seven to catch our flight. Don't think. Sleep."

"I'm really amazed with how well Mom and Dad are dealing with the news about us. I didn't expect them to take it so well."

"Good for them. Sleep time."

"I was certain Dad would take the news the hardest, but he seemed less surprised than Mom did."

House sighs, rolls over to face Wilson. He opens one blue eye. "At the open house, when you went to the bathroom, she told me that she knew you were a little 'different' from the time of your Bar Mitzvah. Something to do with a friend of yours named Johnny? Let me guess—she caught the two of you playing doctor?"

"My Bar Mitzvah? She told you about that? I had no idea she knew. Why didn't she ever say anything to me?"

"Probably didn't want to encourage your homosexual tendencies by talking about them. She also said that after three failed marriages it was getting hard to keep the relatives from speculating."

"She did not tell you that."

"Okay, she didn't. Goodnight, Wilson."

"She _did_ tell you that!"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Wow. I wonder how many other people throughout my life suspected that I was bisexual?"

"Tell you what—you think on it and I'll sleep. You can give me the rundown in the morning."

"There was Nora. She assumed we were a gay couple, which means she had to have sensed something…Of course, you were spoon-feeding her the idea."

"She assumed it before I said or did anything."

"There's Nurse Jeffrey."

"Whoa, wait a minute! Jeffrey?"

"He flirted with me a lot. I chose to ignore him, thinking he flirted with every male staff member, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he sensed that I was bisexual."

"Jeffrey hit on you? Well, I guess it makes sense—every other nurse in the hospital wants to be the next Mrs. Wilson, so why not him?"

"They do not."

"Do too."

"Jerk."

"Moron."

"I can't be a moron. If I were a moron I'd bore you and you would be done with me."

"Smartass."

"That's…not much better."

"Look, can you make your list silently so I can go to sleep?"

"Sorry."

House rolls over and attempts to go back to sleep while Wilson stares up at the ceiling, still thinking. He's quiet long enough for House to be just about asleep.

"Do you ever wonder what it would have been like had we started out as lovers twenty years ago?"

"Mmph…Wilson, you gotta be kidding me!"

"I'm sorry. My mind won't settle down and the only thing that helps with that is to talk about it. I used to do that only I'd talk to Amber, remember? I didn't think you'd appreciate me talking to her while in bed with you so I'm talking to you."

House sighs, rolls over to face Wilson again.

"I don't think we'd still be together had we started off as lovers, Wilson. I think it took years of experiencing the good and the bad to bring us to the place where we could get together and succeed."

"You could have a point. I just can't help thinking that we wasted so much time. When I learned I had cancer I couldn't stop thinking that it was too soon for me to die, that I hadn't said and done everything I wanted yet. Now that I'm in remission, I don't want to take time for granted again. I can't wait until your sentence has been served completely and we can take our sabbaticals. There's so much I want to see and do, and now I get to share in that experience with you."

"I'll be glad when I'm free again, too. Just getting permission to travel to Chicago was like pulling teeth."

"I never did ask you: How _did_ you manage to get permission?"

"Foreman gave me a hand. There's a Cardiology convention in Chicago right now. He called and told my parole officer that it was necessary for me to attend since as a diagnostician I have to be up to date in a wide variety of medical fields. All I had to do is show up for one session; I did that while you and your mother went shopping. One hour being completely bored and my parole officer is satisfied. I was going to tell you but with all of the excitement it slipped my mind."

"That's sneaky. Seems you did teach Foreman a thing or two, didn't you?"

"Are you implying that I'm sneaky?"

"I'm not implying anything—I'm saying it outright. You are a master sneak."

"Thank you."

"Your welcome."

"Did you ever think we'd get together—I mean, even a couple of years ago?"

"Did you?"

"I asked first."

"Um…I often thought about what it would be like, but I never actually thought it would happen. I didn't know that you would be so inclined and as far as I could tell you were in love with Cuddy so…no. You?"

"I didn't think I was, um, well…"

"Well, what?"

House sighs. "Anytime I thought it might actually be possible, you found someone better, another woman who was better."

"Better? What does that mean?"

"Nothing. It means nothing."

"House, talk to me. Just say what you're thinking."

"I don't think that would be wise. I'm concerned that I'll piss you off."

"I want to know. Tell me."

"Someone better always came along…someone who wasn't as screwed up as me."

Wilson looks at him, dumbstruck for several seconds.

"I never meant to give you that impression."

"Never? I seem to remember a lecture or two or twenty. I'm not exactly the ideal candidate for a partner."

"You're the only one _I_ want."

"Sure, right now. What happens when some beautiful or handsome blonde with brains comes along, one who isn't an addict and grade A jerk?"

Wilson reaches out and caresses House's face, looking him in the eyes.

"I love you. I have loved you for a long time, House. I never thought anything more than friendship was possible between us. I didn't want to end up alone, so I sought out other relationships. Now that I have you, I have no intention of seeking out anyone else."

"Wilson, you don't have to say—"

"Apparently I do. I know I have a lousy track record, but I really have never loved anyone the way I love you. I'm committed to making us work and not screwing that up. It was never because you weren't good enough, House. I mean that."

"Okay, Wilson."

Wilson kisses House and lingers, still caressing his bristly cheek. "You're the most amazing person I have ever known, Gregory House. Nobody else can compare to you."

"Okay, now you're just getting sickening."

Wilson chuckles.

"I'm not certain your parents accept us as partners as well as you think."

"Why not?"

"Give me a break, Wilson. Are you telling me that you didn't notice that every person your mother introduced you to today was an attractive female of marriage and child-bearing age?"

"You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not. There was that niece of your aunt's husband's brother, the massage therapist your mom and dad go to, the new secretary at your father's company, and the fourth cousin once-removed who is an airline flight attendant."

"Wow, you were really paying attention."

"Whenever competition enters the picture I pay attention."

"Are you jealous?"

"No. You came back and had sex with me tonight. At the time…I plead the Fifth."

"That's so—"

"If you use any girly descriptive you'll be eating your pillow."

"—you." Wilson finishes, still smiling like the Cheshire cat.

"Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face."

"You love me."

"Don't push it, Wilson."

"Goodnight, House."

"Hmph."


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (11/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1350

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Eleven**

**First Night:**

"You're going to bed already? It's only eight o'clock."

"Long day. Finally figured out what was wrong with the kid. My team is treating and I'm going to sleep."

"You barely ate anything all day. You sure you're feeling alright?"

"Just tired, Wilson. Nothing to panic about."

"You've barely eaten for days."

"I never eat much when I have a case."

"That's true…"

"What are you doing?"

"You're not feverish."

"I told you, I'm just tired."

"Is your leg bothering you?"

"It's about a two, which is good. A two for me is like nothing. Quit fussing over me."

"You want me to join you?"

"If you like, but I'm too tired tonight for sex. Maybe tomorrow morning."

"You're too tired for sex? Now I know something's wrong."

"Hardy-har-har. Seriously, Wilson, quit hovering."

"You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm positive."

"Because Adams mentioned that you left a differential in a hurry today and raced to the bathroom."

"Just an after-effect of eating in the cafeteria—the mystery meat is better than Ex-Lax."

"But you didn't eat anything at lunch."

"Wilson, for Pete's sake—"

"Okay, okay. I'll go turn out everything and be back in a couple of minutes."

"Fine."

Wilson leaves, returns two minutes later and House is snoring. He undresses, pulls an a T-shirt and pajama pants and crawls into bed next to House. He feels House's skin again and then gently feels his wrist for his pulse before putting his ear to House's chest.

**Second Night:**

"You're in bed early again."

"Who are you, the sleep police?"

"You picked at dinner and I made your favorite. You dozed off in front of a monster truck video."

"Hence, I went to bed."

"Something's wrong."

"Yeah, my boyfriend is paranoid—news at eleven."

"You've been pale."

"I have not—Ouch! Hey, what was that for?"

"Your abdomen is tender."

"Newsflash—you just jabbed me in the gut. Of course it hurt!"

"I poked you, not jabbed. If you were sick—I mean, really sick—you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"Wilson—"

"Yes or no, House."

"Yes."

"Would you tell me before or after you were diagnosed."

"You mean, would I just out of the blue announce to you, 'I have cancer, House—I mean, Wilson'?"

"Not funny."

"You're right, it wasn't."

"Are you sick?"

"Of this conversation? Yes, absolutely. Goodnight. Turn off the light."

**Third Night:**

Wilson knocks on the locked bathroom door.

"House, I can hear you throwing up. Open the door!"

"Go away or I'll puke on you," House says from behind the door.

"You've been lying to me."

"Have not."

"So vomiting is a normal bedtime practice?"

Silence greets Wilson. He tries again. "Let me in, House."

House unlocks the door but doesn't open it. The toilet flushes. Wilson opens door and enters to see House at the sink, washing his face, scooping water into his mouth to rinse it out. House turns off the water. Wilson grabs a towel and hands it to House, who nods his thanks.

"Tell me what's wrong. Please."

House sighs. "You know how I said a little while ago that when Hamilton did a chem series on me that my enzyme values were questionable? Well my liver is having a little hiccup. It's nothing new. It's happened before—all I have to do is keep away from booze and non-steroidals and I'll be good."

"What do you mean it's nothing new? Don't walk away from me."

"Every so often I have bouts of tenderness, lack of appetite and nausea. It lasts a few days then stops. I'll go months without a repeat."

"That sounds like a chronic problem House. Cirrhosis—"

"If it's Cirrhosis then there's nothing either of us can do about it, is there? Worrying and hovering over me won't help."

"At least you haven't been drinking lately."

"There is that."

"Have you been diagnosed?"

"I am a diagnostician."

"That's not an answer."

"Formally with lab tests and scans? No."

"Tomorrow you're having them done. It could be cirrhosis or it could be something else. Chronic hepatitis, liver cancer—"

"It's not cancer."

"How do you know if you haven't been examined and tested? I thought the tickle and pressure in my chest was due to allergies, or asthma, before I was diagnosed."

"Wilson—"

"House, I lost you for a year when you were in prison and it was horrible. I don't want to lose you for good. Tell me you don't know _exactly_ how I feel."

They stare at each other in silence for a few moments.

"Fine. You do the exam and the tests. No one else finds out about this. I don't need Adams squawking about hepatic encephalopathy again. There's nothing wrong with my mind."

"Well, nothing, that is, that hasn't been wrong with it for a long time."

"Keep your day job—you're a lousy comedian."

"Thank you, House."

Wilson pulls House into an embrace. House allows himself to be held for a while, relaxing. His hands gravitate to Wilson's ass.

"Want to come to bed, too? I'm feeling better."

"How much better?"

"Come to bed and I'll show you."

"Only if you brush your teeth first. Your breath reeks."

"Deal."

**Fourth Night:**

They lie awake together in the dark.

"Wilson?"

"Yeah?"

"My liver is failing."

"Yeah, I know. I was there."

"This is fucked. The timing is the shits."

"I wasn't aware that there was ever a good time for one's liver to fail."

"You know what I mean. Our sabbaticals—"

"Can wait. Your health is more important."

"Wilson, I have two months left with this liver, if I'm lucky. And I don't qualify for a transplant."

"We don't know that for certain. Look, while you were still on Vicodin and drinking then no, you weren't a candidate, but you've radically altered your lifestyle. That has to count for something. I've been on the transplant board, I should know."

"You're being overly optimistic. I'm AB negative with rare markers. The chances of a compatible donation coming up in time for me are slim."

"We're not giving up, House. You're not going to die."

"The numbers say otherwise."

"Well, the numbers are wrong. A donor will come up. Or I'll find one myself."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Are you talking about what I think you're talking about? That would be unethical."

"Since when do you care about ethics?"

"Since when _don't_ you?"  
"There's nothing wrong with putting out feelers for people willing to donate a lobe of their liver to you. If money happens to pass from one bank account to another at the same time, how is it going to hurt anyone?"

"Wow."

"What, wow?"

"Dr. James Wilson is going to buy me a black market liver!"

"Not black market."

"Okay, charcoal grey."

"House just…look. You mean more to me than anyone or anything else in the world. I'm not going to sit back and let you die if there is any way whatsoever I can prevent it. You would do the same for me."

"Yes, I would. But I'm unprincipled—ask anyone."

"Principles and rules are fine, but I'm willing to bend them when a life is in jeopardy, namely yours. Don't be a hypocrite and judge me for that."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Wilson, I think you're going to hug the stuffing out of me."

"Tough luck, I'm not letting go. Don't you, either."


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (12/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1350

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue. Just a little fic that came to me as I was trying to think of something better to write. The fic isn't nearly as sexy as the title suggests. Sorry about that .

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Twelve**

"Foreman agreed to try to get you onto the transplant list."

"Good luck with that."

"We have to try. How are you feeling?"

"The same as I did the last time you asked me that—oh, ten minutes ago, maybe."

"You barely ate dinner. Maybe I can bring you some soup?"

"Wilson, you have to stop this."

"Stop what?"

"This…this hovering over me, catering to me. Ordinarily I would encourage such behavior but not because of my liver. I still feel fine."

"You threw up lunch, House. I'd hardly say that's fine."

"I know that you want to help, but you're driving me batty. Relax, Wilson. I'm not going to die tonight. You can come to bed."

"Quit kidding around, this is serious. Today I talked to a couple of people on the transplant committee who were on it when I served. I didn't mention you specifically, but I put out feelers to see what the consensus would be on allowing former drug abusers who were now sober to be added to the list."

"And?"

"One of the people said that she would have no problem adding such a person to the list. The other said that he would be very reluctant to place such a person onto the list ahead of individuals who had never abused drugs or otherwise practiced risky behaviors. He agreed that there might be room for exceptions but such individuals would have to be exceptional."

"So fifty-fifty. Better odds than I expected."

"That's only two people. There are currently six other names on the committee list. Foreman is one of them but due to conflict of interest he can't vote. There's hope, House. Foreman said that the committee will likely want to interview you before making their final determination."

"You sound worried."

"Well, you do have a way of pissing people off sometimes. When you're being interviewed you have to be on your best behavior."

"I know."

"I'm serious about this, House. This is your life we're talking about. No matter what they ask, no matter how frustrated you might get, you have to keep a rein on your temper and sarcasm."

"Wilson, I do know how to be charming when I choose to be. I just don't choose to be very often. I know what all is at stake. Now, seriously, stop pacing, get undressed and come to bed."

"In a minute. I wonder if Dr. Hamilton and Dr. Nolan will testify on your behalf. We should get a hold of them first thing in the morning."

"I already spoke to them. They agreed to send letters of reference to the committee chair."

"That's excellent! Every bit of support we can raise is vital. The committee meets next Wednesday afternoon."

"You mean I have six more days of you pacing and hovering to look forward to? I mean it, Wilson. Get into this bed _now_."

"Oh, alright." Wilson quickly undresses and throws on a T-shirt and pajama pants. He crawls into bed next to House, but looks as highly strung as a piano wire. "I don't know how you can be so calm about this."

"Wilson, were you calm when you found out that you had stage two thymoma?"

"I was scared shitless, but I hid it because I didn't want everyone around me to know my business."

"I am concerned."

"Concerned?"

"Okay, fine. I'm worried. I'd have to be insane not to be. For years now I've known that my Vicodin use and drinking would have a toll on my body. It's been a waiting game for me to see how long I could go before my body began to shut down. Now I know. Maybe I'm not pacing because this didn't come as a huge surprise to me. It shouldn't have been a surprise to you, either. We're doing everything we can do at this stage. If the committee agrees to put me on the list, great; if it doesn't then we look for a Plan B. Even if I am added to the list, my chances of finding a non-living, unrelated donor are shitty. I don't relish the prospect of dying; I'm going to do everything I can to prevent it from happening, but we have to be realistic. It might happen whether we want it to or not."

"I can't accept that. I won't lose you now that I finally have you. You'll get a liver."

"Okay. I'll get a liver."

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"You mean, you, Gregory House—_you_ want to cuddle?"

"I'm cold and you're warm. Come here. I'm in need of your body heat."

"Oh, so that's all this is then. You're parasitically taking heat from me. The fact that you're rubbing circles on my stomach is meaningless."

"Yup."

"Then I guess if I kiss you right...there, that's meaningless, too?"

"Absolutely."

They lie in the dark. Wilson places small kisses on House's neck, House continues to caress Wilson's torso.

"Have you told your mother?"

"About my liver? No."

"Don't you think you should?"

"Why? She would only worry, and there's nothing she can do to help so it would be for nothing. If it comes to the point where there's no longer any hope then I'll call her—or you will, if I'm unable to."

"It's not going to come to that."

"Okay."

"You're very agreeable tonight."

"There's no point in arguing with you."

"I'm glad you see it that way."

"Right now I do. In six days that might change."

Wilson is silent for a few seconds, then, "I've already done a little work on Plan B."

"Oh? Do tell."

"The internet is a wondrous thing. You can find just about anything you're looking for if you search long enough. For example, there's a website I found where an entire section is devoted to people looking for living organ donors."

"You put me on the list, didn't you?"

"I couldn't see how it could hurt. If we get any hits of people with AB negative blood type we could have marker screening done on the candidate or candidates."

"I don't suppose there would be the exchange of money for this donation."

"That, I assume, is to be decided between us and whoever ends up matching you."

"I have to tell you that my savings are pretty dwindled."

"You don't need to worry about it."

"I can't ask you to pay for it, Wilson."

"You don't have to. I never asked you, either. If or when the time comes for that, the money will be there. It's not up for discussion."

"I already owe you a king's ransom."

"I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me."

"Oh really? So this gesture is purely selfish."

"Completely. I already lost someone I loved very much. I'm not going to go through that hell again."

They are silent for a few minutes.

"Wilson?"

"Yes, House?"

"Quit hogging the blankets. You don't want me catching a cold in my condition, do you?"

Wilson rolls his eyes. "Of course not. Goodnight, House."


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (13/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1350

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

**Thanks to Flatpicklvr for the heads up on the use of Questran to treat chronic liver failure symptoms.**

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Thirteen**

"House, you've been in the bathroom for nearly half an hour. Just take your medicine and come out already."

"This tastes like orange-flavored puke."

"Oh, come on, House. Questran isn't that bad. It'll help with the jaundice and itching. You've been scratching yourself raw."

"You want to try some of it and then tell me again how it's not that bad?"

"House, just take it and get it over with."

"If liver failure doesn't kill me, drinking this shit will."

"It's not time to panic."

"Who's panicking?"

"We have nine hits on our internet listing that meet the parameters we set out. If the transplant committee won't help us, we'll take control ourselves."

"Wilson…"

"I've already responded to them. Three live within driving distance of Princeton. I've asked them to come to PPTH for blood tests. For the other six we can arrange for them to be tested where they live and the results sent back to us. More people may respond as well."

"Wilson, I—"

"We should hear back from them by tomorrow evening. I've already made arrangements with my bank for a money draft."

"Wilson!"

"What?"

"Come here."

"I really don't need to watch you use the toilet, House."

"No, idiot, come here, now."

"What is it—oh my _God_. Your jaundice worsened that much in the past half an hour?"

"I look like Banana-man. I'm…really not feeling alright."

"The last time I looked you were only slightly jaundiced in your eyes and under your tongue and fingernails. House, come sit down."

Wilson leads House out of the bathroom and to the bed. House stumbles over his own feet once, nearly felling both of them. Wilson takes House's pulse and frowns.

"I'm calling for an ambulance."

"No don't!"

"House, you're tachycardic and severely jaundiced—rapid onset of jaundice, might I add. We need to get you to the hospital. We—"

House vomits spontaneously, having had no warning. There is blood mixed in with the Questran, water, and bile that he brings up. Wilson hurries to the bathroom, grabs a wet washcloth and returns to help clean House and the floor up.

"No hospital. I just need sleep."

"House, something has turned for the worse. We talked about this. You told me to pull rank if you should begin making decisions that were not logical. The logical thing to do right now is to get you to the hospital where you can be stabilized. Once you're stabilized we may be able to bring you back home."

"I'm fine."

"Bullshit. I'm calling."

Wilson picks up his phone and dials 9-1-1. He orders an ambulance to his loft, giving the reason and the address. As he speaks with the dispatcher House crumples up and falls forward to the floor in front of the bed, unconscious. Wilson is immediately at his side.

"House…House!"

"Wha—?"

"Easy, House. I'm here. You're in Intensive Care at Plainsboro. You passed out before the ambulance arrived at the loft. You've been stabilized but Dr. Greenbough wants to keep you for observation. Would you like some water?"

"Mm-hmm."

"There you go."

Wilson offers House a sip of water through a straw in a glass. House drinks greedily for a few seconds.

"Greenbough's…a quack."

"He is not. You just don't like him because you can't intimidate him. No, you can't get up! Just stay down and relax."

"I want to go home."

"You're in no condition to go home, yet. For one thing they need to keep you on oxygen since your sats are on the low side. Damnit, House, if you don't stop struggling with me I'll have restraints put on you!"

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"Wi-i-lson—!"

"Whining won't work, either."

"Guess we better speed up the selection process. How bad is it really?"

"You're liver is failing faster than anticipated."

"How long?"

Silence until House breaks it impatiently. "How long, Wilson?"

"A week, maybe a little longer. You can't go home," Wilson replies grudgingly, avoiding House's gaze. "I called the three closest candidates. They're currently on their way here. We'll know in a few hours if they match. I also contacted the other three and they'll be getting tested first thing tomorrow morning. One of them will match, House."

"Keep thinking that if you like, Wilson…but the odds…"

"Fuck the odds! You're going to get a new liver, House. It's going to happen."

"Wilson, I don't…believe in Santa Claus and…I don't believe in miracles."

"We don't need a miracle. We just need a match."

But House has fallen asleep and does not hear him.

"How's he doing?"

"In and out of consciousness."

"Were any of those three a match?"

"No. I'm still waiting on the results from the Tampa and Albuquerque people. If one of them doesn't match, Foreman…but one _has_ to."

"Wilson, you've been here all night. Go home and get some sleep. I'll have your P.A. rebook any appointments—"

"I'm not leaving him."

"He's stable."

"Critical and stable. Don't forget the critical part."

"Plainsboro has one of the best critical care teams in the country. You know that. They can handle taking care of him long enough for you to catch 40 winks. His mother should be arriving soon so she can sit with him. I'll stay with him at least until she gets here. At least go to your office and lay down on your couch. That's an order."

"Power has gone to your head. I am going to be here when he wakes up again."

"Fine, you win. I'm going to have housekeeping bring a gurney into here and you can sleep and still be here when he wakes up."

"Thanks, Foreman."

"James?" Blythe whispers, placing her hand on his shoulder and shaking slightly. Wilson, lying on a gurney placed next to House's bed, wakes up, startled. He checks House's vitals on the monitor before turning to her.

"Blythe, hi. Is Thomas here as well?"

"He's talking with Dr. Foreman right now. Gregory…?"

"He's hanging in there but it isn't good," Wilson answers gently. He gets off the gurney and pulls up a chair for Blythe, who takes it gratefully.

"How long does he have without a transplant?"

"Blythe…"

"Tell me the truth, James. I'm stronger than I look."

"Less than a week at his current rate of deterioration. As I told you over the phone, his liver has completely failed and his kidneys are about ready to fail because of the shock to his entire system and the toxins that are building up. A healthy liver filters a lot of those toxins out of his body but since his isn't functioning they build up in his tissues and blood."

"He's so yellow…I've never seen anyone as jaundiced."

"I know."

"Any luck with the potential donors?"

"So far no luck but we're still waiting on the blood tests on two of them, so there's still hope."

"James, dear, how are you doing?"

"Me? I'm…I'm fine. I'm not the one who's sick."

"You're going to make yourself sick if you don't take better care of yourself. Dr. Foreman said you haven't left Greg's side since he was hospitalized, that you've barely slept or eaten in all that time. Why don't you go home for a while, get some real sleep in your own bed—"

"Blythe, really…I appreciate your concern, but I'm not going anywhere."

"You're such a good friend to my son."

"I wish I could do something more…"

"Nonsense. You've done so much already. You love him, don't you?"

Wilson looks a little surprised and is silent for a moment before nodding. "Yes. I love him very much. Blythe, I feel like I should tell you something serious. See, House and I—"

"You're _in_ love with him, aren't you James?"

Wilson is dumbstruck. Blythe smiles knowingly, takes his hand and squeezes it. "I'm old, dear, but I'm not blind yet, and I'm not stupid. I noticed just how much you enjoyed looking at Greg's pictures the last time Thomas and I were here, and how uncomfortable you were at the restaurant when Greg introduced Dominika to us. That combined with your faithfulness to him over the years…well, it adds up."

"He loves me, too," Wilson tells her. "We…we're in a relationship. It happened just recently. We were going to tell you at Christmas but…well, now you know."

"You're worried that I won't approve of Greg living that lifestyle, aren't you?"

"Yes…a little."

"James, you are the best thing ever to happen to my son. Greg has never been a very happy person—I don't have to tell you that. But when he's around you he appears as close to content and happy that I've ever seen him. How can I object to that?"

"You don't know how relieved I am to hear that. My parents are having a little more difficulty accepting it than you."

"Give them time. They'll come around."

"I hope so."

"Listen, I'm going to go down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. What can I bring back for you? Don't tell me nothing. You need to keep up your strength so you can be here for Gregory."

"A turkey sandwich would be great. Thank you, Blythe."

"Okay. I'll be back in a little while. Have me paged if anything changes?"

"Absolutely."

Foreman enters House's room at a run, slightly winded, waving a printout in his hand. "The results were just faxed here. Wilson, Albuquerque is six for six!"

"You wouldn't be so cruel as to be joking, would you?"

"Take a look for yourself."

"House would be disgusted if he heard me say this, but thank God! I've got to call Blythe and Thomas at their hotel, arrange flights, notify the surgeon, get an OR—"

"My P.A. is already working on it. Oh, and Wilson?"

"Yeah?"

"If there's an exchange of money, I don't want to know anything about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine. House is one lucky bastard. He's cheated death again."

"Let's not jump the gun. He still has to survive the surgery…but at least now he has a fighting chance."


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (14/?)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1350

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Fourteen**

"Shh, don't try to talk; you're still intubated and in Recovery. They'll be taking you down to ICU shortly. You made it through the transplant surgery with flying colors. As if there was any doubt. I still can't believe how lucky we got—but I'm not going to question it. Your recovery will take some time, but hey, you had to wait out the rest of your sentence anyway. You should be recovered by the time you're a free man and we can travel like we planned. I guess being a stubborn son of a bitch comes in handy once in a while; you weren't about to let something as trivial as a liver transplant to do you in.

"I was thinking…you're going to need help during your recovery so living with me only makes sense but…but maybe we should think about making it permanent. When your stronger I thought we might begin to look for a place that is ours rather than going back and forth between your place and mine. There's no rush…just a thought. Thank you for not giving up. By the way…when it was touch and go I contacted Blythe. Don't roll your eyes at me. I know you're not happy about that, but she deserved to know. Thomas and she are here in Princeton. I tried to convince her that you were going to be okay but she insisted on coming. To be honest, I'm glad you're too weak right now to kill me. Go back to sleep now; I'll be here when you wake up. I love you, House."

**~h/w~**

"Good morning, Gregory."

"Why did you come?"

"Well, it's lovely to see you again, too. Does it hurt to talk?"

"A little, from breathing tube they took out. Drink of water?"

"Of course."

Blythe, alone in House's ICU cubicle, pours a glass of water from the jug nearby and puts a straw in it. She holds it to House's mouth and he drinks greedily.

"Where's Wilson?"

"He just stepped out to use the restroom. How are you feeling, Son?"

"Not bad…good drugs."

"I'll bet. If you weren't so weak I'd be tempted to turn you over my knee for not telling me that you were sick when you first found out."

"Didn't want to worry you. Where's your husband?"

"Thomas?"

"Are there others?"

"Very funny. He's out in the corridor. He figured you would appreciate alone time with me and they're limiting how many people can be in here with you at any given time."

"He's really my father, Mom."

"I know."

"I ran a DNA test last time you were here to confirm it."

"That figures. You always were curious, needed to know what you needed to know. I could never keep up with all of your questions when you were a little boy. That was a sign of just how brilliant you were even back then."

"Did Dad—I mean, John—know?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

A silent pause as Blythe struggles to find an answer. She shrugs and sighs. "It didn't seem appropriate. I was still married to John, and he wanted to raise you as his own. For all intents and purposes, he was your father, Gregory, even if you weren't blood related."

"Did he ever…do you think he resented me because you were unfaithful and I was the result?"

"I…I don't think so. I think he loved you but was frustrated by you because he couldn't figure you out. You could be a very trying child, you know, always thinking two steps ahead of us like you did and a bundle of unbridled energy when you weren't sleeping."

"He was very…hard…on me."

"He was a strict disciplinarian. I think part of it was his Marine training but his father was just as strict with him and I guess he figured that was the way a man should raise his son. I didn't always agree with his decisions, but he was your father."

"Some…might say that he was abusive, Mom."

Blythe looks away, through the glass wall of the cubicle at Thomas, who was talking with Taub and Park. She is quiet for a moment, looking troubled.

"There were times when…when I thought about leaving him, Gregory, when he would be particularly hard on you but…but it was a different time…different circumstances for a woman trying to raise a son on her own. I didn't think I was strong enough to face that. He wasn't _that_ hard on you, was he?"

"Sometimes."

"Why, what would he do?"

"Ice baths until I couldn't feel anything," House whispers. "Made me sleep out in the yard at night. Used a razor strap to spank me, left welts."

"Why didn't you ever tell me it was that bad?"

"I…I figured you had to have known some of it. John wouldn't have changed even if you knew, if you tried to stop him."

Silence for a few seconds as House rests and Blythe thinks.

"I'm…sorry, Gregory. For not being stronger."

"Not hunting for an apology. It was…what it was. Long time ago. I knew John wasn't my biological father when I was an adolescent. Figured it out using my birth date and the dates that he was away on maneuvers. Often wondered what my real father was like."

"Well, now you know. I just wish you two could get along."

"I don't hate him."

"Well, that's something, then."

"I'm tired…"

"Then go back to sleep, dear. I'll be around for a few days, we can talk more when you're stronger."

"Okay."

House allows his eyes to close and he quickly falls into the grey nothingness of sleep.

**~h/w~**

Wilson is there in the room when he awakes again. Blythe is gone. Wilson stands at the end, reading House's chart.

"Still alive?" House croaks to his lover.

"Looks that way," Wilson replies. "You're doing very well. At this rate you should be transferred to the ward in a day or two."

"Get some sleep?"

"Some," Wilson replies. "Your mother made me. I didn't want to leave in case he woke up," Wilson explains. He gently grabs House's foot through the light hospital blanket and squeezes it. House wiggles his toes. Wilson comes around the bed and sits on the edge of it closer to House.

"You worry too much," House tells him, rolling his eyes. Wilson takes his hand and holds it. House does not pull away.

"You give me plenty of reason. House, your mother knows about us."

"You told her?"

"Yes, but…but she already had figured out that I was in love with you from her last visit. Something to do with the way I went, in her words, 'gaga' about your baby pictures."

House snorts in amusement. "Told you so."

"She's okay with it."

"I figured she would be. She likes you more than she does me."

"She does not."

"Don't be so certain. I haven't always been the best son."

"No one ever is the 'best' son, House. We're all human."

"It came close to the wire."

Wilson nods. "Too close. I almost gave up hope. It was…unsettling."

"Unsettling?"

"You know what I mean. I was not in the greatest frame of mind. When Foreman told me there was a match I could barely believe it. This is twice now we've been incredibly lucky."

"Three times, Wilson. Your remission, my liver transplant, and our finally getting together."

"That was romantic, House."

"Yeah, I know. If you tell anyone I said that I'll email naked pictures of you to every computer in the hospital."

"Your secret is safe with me."


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (15/22)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am only borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1200

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Wilson?"

"Yeah?"

"Getting me a bed normally reserved for gastric bypass patients was a stroke of genius."

"It is quite roomy, isn't it? We have your inability to get along with your last roommate to thank for the private room."

"It wasn't my fault. He was a babbler. I'd try to rest and he would babble away in his sleep."

"Did he say anything interesting?"

"Not that I could make out; that was the problem. You can move a little closer; I'm not going to break."

"I don't want to accidentally bump your side and cause you pain from your incision. I know from experience how tender it can be."

"Wilson, they serve primo drugs here. Relax and move closer."

"You've become quite the cuddler, haven't you?"

"I'm not cuddling; this bed may be bigger than your average hospital bed but it's by no means expansive."

"Oh, I see."

"I'm just glad Mom and Tommy-boy decided to retire to their hotel early this evening so we can be alone. How long are they going to remain here, anyway?"

"Another couple of days. Your mother was pretty furious with me when I called her; she was indignant at not being notified sooner of your illness. She cares a great deal for you."

"I know. Better she got angry at you than at me, though."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I forgot how thin these hospital blankets are. Are you cold?"

"Nope, but I'm hot-blooded."

"No argument there. I'm going to ring for a nurse to bring another blanket from the warmer."

"Just move closer and you'll be warm."

"How much closer can I get? I'm practically on top of you."

"I'd rather you were _in_ me."

"Me, too. But that's off-limits for a while yet."

"Which sucks elephant balls."

"Elephant balls?"

"I needed something big to emphasize just how much it sucks. Get with the program."

"Sorry. You know, we could still make-out, so long as we're careful."

"I don't know. You get overheated pretty quickly and I wouldn't want to torture you when there's no happy ending."

"_I_ get overheated? You should talk!"

"I can't help it if you're so goddamned sexy, Wilson."

"Ditto here, House."

"They're going to start tapering off the narcotics tomorrow, so if we're going to do anything now is the time to do it while I'm still getting the good stuff for the pain."

"Well, if you insist…" Wilson leans in and captures House's more than willing mouth in a kiss that lasts several seconds and leaves them both slightly winded. "You're right. I _do_ want more and it _is_ torture having to wait."

"Told you so."

"Dr. Greenbough said if you continue to improve as you have been you'll be home as soon as early next week."

"I think I'm ready now to go home."

"You would, and I'm certain that the nurses and the physiotherapist assigned to you would be glad to see you discharged early but no. You're not strong enough yet and there is that little matter of weaning you off of the Demerol to deal with first."

"You're coddling me."

"I don't care. I want to make sure things are done right. If you push yourself to soon you'll only end up back in here. You forget that I've been through this kind of recovery process."

"I remember how whiny you were."

"I was never whiny."

"Were to."

"Was not. Okay, so sometimes I was a little grumpy, I'll give you that, but I never whined, House."

"You have a faulty memory."

"Whatever. Do you remember me mentioning to you my idea about us moving in together?"

"Faintly. I was pretty drugged up."

"Yeah, I know. What do think about it? Too soon?"

"Wilson, we've been courting each other for years, I would hardly call the suggestion too soon, and we have lived together before."

"Yes, but not as lovers."

"It won't be that much different except that we'll only need one bedroom."

"So you agree?"

"Makes sense, especially since I will need help for a while after I'm discharged and it is a pain in the ass going back and forth between our places like we have been doing."

"I was thinking that you could move back into the loft with me for the time being. It's larger, more open, easier to move you about."

"Wilson, I'm not an invalid. I was up walking today—got as far as the vending machines. Damned nurse took my Snickers bar away."

"House, you're on a restricted diet right now for a reason."

"I'm sick to death of mashed and blended everything."

"You'll be off your soft diet soon enough."

"Meh."

"So is that a no to the loft? Would you rather I moved into your apartment?"

"Whatever you're more comfortable with, but if we go with the loft then we're buying a new bed. I don't want to sleep in the same one you had sex with the harpy in."

"Well, yes, of course, because I never wash the bedding and we haven't already had sex in that bed yet."

"It's not that. It's the principle of the thing."

"Well, by that reasoning, if we go with your place then we should still buy a new bed so I don't have to sleep in the same one you've soiled with numerous prostitutes and Cuddy."

"Interesting that you juxtaposed Cuddy with the prostitutes."

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's just interesting. I was going to suggest we get a new bed if you moved in with me. New relationship, new bed for both of us."

"Speaking about doing things brand new, what about my idea that we find a new place that is legally both of ours, a new home to start a new relationship?"

"Sounds okay, but do you want to do that before our sabbaticals or after?"

"I was thinking before, so we have it settled before we leave. There will be a few months yet before your sentence is completed. Once you're discharged and feeling stronger we can look into it."

"A place that's _ours_, that I won't be kicked out of in favor of some blonde harpy."

"Nobody will ever replace you again, House."

"There better not be; that person wouldn't live very long and I'd make you get rid of the body."

"Of course. It would only be fair. Digging the hole would be very difficult with one damaged leg."

They kiss again, lingering, gazing into each other's eyes when their mouths part for breath.

"We've both been given a second chance at life," Wilson murmurs. "There's no one I want to spend it with more than you."

"You're certain about that?"

"Absolutely positive."

"I can live with that."


	16. Chapter 16

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (16/22)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1290

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

**The Hebrew in this chapter is in Hebrew transliteration, since I don't have a Hebrew keyboard on my computer. It was recommended to me by a friend. I am not Jewish and I don't speak Hebrew. No offense to anyone is intended. I read the translation to the prayer and found it to be very beautiful. If I made any mistakes I would appreciate constructive correction. The translation is at the very end of this chapter. Wilson isn't religious but often non-religious people will pray under extreme circumstances. Thanks!**

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Wilson rushes into the surgical observation theater.

"Goddamned traffic kept me from getting here quicker. Foreman, what the hell happened? He was fine when I saw him this morning. I just went home long enough to shower and change—"

"He began to bleed internally from the transplant. His blood clotting factors tanked and his blood pressure went with it by the time his nurse noticed what was wrong. He's been rushed to emergency surgery to find the location of the bleed and stop it. This kind of thrombocytopenia is a rare complication of liver transplantation."

"I want to scrub in."

"No," Foreman tells him. "In this case you're family, not physician. We don't allow family to scrub in. Wilson, relax, okay? We're doing everything we can for him."

"Why wasn't he being observed more closely? How long was he bleeding into his abdomen before the nurse thought to check on him?"

"It wasn't the fault of the nursing staff. House was in a regular ward and received the same standard of care as everyone else on the ward. House's nurse was busy bathing another patient when it likely began. This happened quite suddenly."

"Well, what happened? Did Greenbough screw up the first time in so now they have to fix his mistakes?"

"Wilson, I don't have all of the information yet. We'll know more once the surgical team opens him up."

Wilson moves to window, leans against it, and looks down at the surgery underway in the OR below.

"He seemed to be doing so well. I was supposed to be taking him home on Monday. How could this have happened?"

"I don't know, but it has so what we need to focus on now is getting him over this hurdle and back on the road to recovery."

"He could bleed to death down there on the table."

"He was given clotting factors before surgery and they're keeping a close eye on him. We still had an adequate supply of AB negative blood on hand. It's going to be okay."

"You don't know that for certain."

"We also don't know for certain that something is going to go wrong. Try to think positively."

"I should never have left his side."

"Wilson, you had no reason to believe anything adverse was going to happen to him. You didn't do anything wrong. House knows that."

"I can't believe I could still be in danger of losing him. I thought we were both in the clear."

"I know. Dr. Greenbough is an extremely talented surgeon. House is in good hands."

"He missed something the first time, hence the bleed. What if he misses something else this time? Is that Chase assisting him?"

"Yes. I kept Chase on the surgical schedule since he's supposed to fill in for House during his sabbatical. He was on duty, heard about what happened, and asked to be able to scrub in. Don't tell him I said this, but Chase is one of the best surgeons on staff. Even if Greenbough were to miss something, Chase will catch it. Look, I have a meeting in five minutes. Keep me posted, okay?"

Wilson nods and Foreman leaves.

"Hold on, Greg," Wilson whispers. "Please."

He closes his eyes and struggles to remember a prayer for healing he'd memorized shortly after becoming a doctor. He prayed it when Amber was dying and not again since then. He mouths it, knowing as he does that House would not approve.

_*"Mi Sheberakh_

_Avoteinu: Avraham, Yitzhak, v'Yaakov,_

_V'Imoteinu: Sarah, Rivka, Rachel v'Leah,_

_Hu yivarekh virapei_

_Et haholeh Gregory ben John_

_Hakadosh Barukh Hu_

_Yimalei rahamim alav_

_L'hahalimo,_

_u-l'rap'oto,_

_l'hahaziko,_

_u-l'hay-oto. _

_V'yishlah lo bim-hera_

_R'fuah shlemah_

_R'fu-at hanefesh u-r'fu-at hagoof,_

_B'tokh sh'ar holei Yisrael v'holei yoshvei tevel,_

_Hashta ba'agalah u-vizman kariv,_

_V'no-mar, Amen.__"_

House awakens in Recovery, no longer intubated since he is breathing well enough on his own. Wilson sits beside him, holding his hand.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Wilson murmurs. "Way to scare a guy."

"Water."

"Not just yet. You still are quite sedated and I don't want you to choke. Wake up a little more, first. How do you feel?"

"Shitty."

"Good. That's normal."

"What—?"

"An aneurysm formed post-surgically and burst just when your body decided to decimate your thrombocytes. You bled into your abdomen and required emergency surgery. So much for coming home on Monday."

"No. 'M going home."

"Don't think so, House. They have to get your blood clotting properly and you have a fresh incision to heal first. You're going to be okay."

"You said that…last time."

"I was right, for a while, anyway. You just have to be one who picks a rare complication to have. I'm sorry I left you. Had I been there I would have noticed that something was wrong sooner than the nurse did—"

"Shut up. No pity-party."

"You sound like Foreman."

"So he's right…for once. Even a broken…clock is right…twice a day."

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled with your comparison. I should be angry at you for scaring the shit out of me."

"Hey…almost died."

"Yeah, I know. I thought I was going to lose you after all. I'm glad you proved me wrong."

"Mm, ice chips, _some_thing."

"Once you're taken up to the ICU I'll find you some ice to suck on."

"Rather suck… you."

"Save that thought for when I take you home."

"Not…soon, huh?"

"Nope. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay."

"Who you…trying to convince?"

"Maybe both of us."

"'M too stubborn…to die."

"Well whatever it is, keep it up. Go back to sleep. I'll be there when you wake up."

"No. Go home. Eat…sleep."

"I'm not leaving you again."

"Be okay. I'll still be here…when you come back."

"You promise?"

"Scout's…honor."

"You were never a boy scout."

"Oh yeah. You helped…old ladies cross the street. I pushed them…into traffic."

"You did not. Despite what you might believe about yourself, you are _not_ a monster."

"Love you, Jimmy."

"Go to sleep. You're delirious."

"Mm hmm."

"I love you, too, House."

_**~h/w~**_

_*May the One who blessed our ancestors—_

_Patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob,_

_Matriarchs Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah—_

_Bless and heal the one who is ill:_

_Gregory son of John._

_May the Holy Blessed One_

_Overflow with compassion upon him_

_To restore him,_

_To heal him,_

_To strengthen him, to enliven him._

_The One will send him, speedily,_

_A complete healing—_

_Healing of the soul and healing of the body—_

_Along with all the ill,_

_Among the people of Israel and all humankind,_

_Soon,_

_Speedily,_

_Without delay,_

_And let us all say: Amen!_


	17. Chapter 17

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (17/22)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~2900

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

**A longer chapter than most in this fic.**

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Seventeen**

It is about a week after House's emergency surgery. Wilson returns from the bathroom to find House's team surrounding his sick bed and House conducting a differential. Chase is also present.

"What's going on here?" Wilson demands, hands on his hips. "House, you're supposed to be resting, not working. Everybody out. The differential is over."

"Relax," House tells him. "I feel fine and they were just leaving to perform a lumbar puncture on the patient and search her home while her parents are here at the hospital with her."

Chase, Adams, Taub and Park file out of the room.

"House, what was that about?"

"What? No harm done. They were stuck and came to me for help. The life of a five year old hangs in the balance, Wilson."

"Nice try at pulling the heart strings. Is Chase heading the team right now?"

"As long as I'm not able to work he is. Good practice for when I'm on sabbatical. Foreman put him in charge until I can return to work. Shouldn't be too long. Another couple of days here, followed by two weeks at home—"

"Three weeks, followed by half days on a trial basis to see how much you can handle. Trust me, House. I've been in your shoes and even a half of a day can exhaust you after an illness like this. I was going to take you on a walk, but I wonder if maybe you shouldn't get some rest instead."

"I'm fine, really. Besides, the physiotherapist wants me walking for a few minutes every few hours to prevent muscle atrophy. Give me a hand up and we'll take a walk to the candy machine at the end of the corridor."

"Okay," Wilson agrees. He moves to the bed as House slowly swings his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing every so often as a twinge of pain from his incision occurs. Wilson gets an arm around him, bracing him with a hand to his chest and helps House to a standing position.

"Easy, now. You okay if I let go?"

"I haven't forgotten how to walk, Wilson—but don't go too far, just in case."

They walk slowly out of the room (Wilson holds open the door for House who limps slowly with a hand over his incision as support and pushing his IV pole in the other hand).

"I don't want you to push yourself too hard. The last time you were about to be released to go home you began to bleed internally. I don't want a repeat."

"You can't baby me forever, Wilson. Besides, my blood counts are back to normal and holding there. I have had no sign of any kind of infection or rejection and I'm finally back on solid foods. No more roast beef puree for me."

"No candy, either."

"Aw, Wilson—!"

"No, House. You need to eat better now, and chocolate isn't a complete and nutritious diet."

"I was thinking more in terms of a bag of Doritos and a Coke."

"No and no. You need a well balanced diet of healthy food to build you up. Lean meats, complex carbohydrates high in fiber, low-fat, low-refined sugars and no artificial preservatives."

"In other words, boring food. Yuck. If you think I'm eating anything that is green and leafy you have another thought coming."

"You've got to take better care of yourself after a major illness like this. I plan on making certain you eat right and get enough exercise because I have no intention of losing you any time soon."

"Wilson—"

"House, don't argue with me on this one. The healthier your lifestyle, the longer your life expectancy following a major organ transplant will be. I want to have you around for a long time to come."

House sighs. "Alright. So long as I'm allowed junk food once in a while, I can tolerate a careful diet."

"It's a deal. By the way, I called Bonnie and she's been looking around for places for us to look at. I told her it would be about a week to two weeks before we could begin seriously looking at apartments. If you're still finding it a bit much we can arrange for you to have a wheelchair for a while after you're discharged."

"Why don't you just set me up with a walker while you're at it. A week from now I'll be walking circles around you."

"Sure you will. The only way that's gonna happen is if I break a leg before then."

"I'm certain that could be arranged."

"Hardy-har-har. You are doing pretty well right now, though."

"That slave driver of a physiotherapist has been putting me through the paces. I've been thinking about buying her a bull whip but I'm thinking she might actually use it."

"Sounds kinky."

"I don't want to think about it. Have you seen my physiotherapist? She looks like Taub in drag." House shudders theatrically.

"I've seen her and she's not that bad."

"I think it's time you had your eyes examined."

"Well, I think you're handsome, so what does that say about you?"

"Ouch. Words can hurt, you know."

"You know I'm teasing."

"Lucky for you."

"I am lucky," Wilson tells him with a gentle smile. "I still have you."

"Now you're getting sappy again."

"Well if being happy that you're recovering well and I'm not going to lose you anytime soon is sappy, then I say bring it on."

"Sappy nerd."

"Limping twerp."

"Idiot."

"Dork."

_**~h/w~**_

House and Wilson are in House's room as he is about to be discharged from the hospital.

"It's hospital policy," Wilson states.

"I don't care, I'm not letting you push me through the hospital in that thing. I may be a cripple but I can still walk out of this hospital under my own power."

"You still can. You ride in the wheelchair as far as the lobby and walk out the exit on your own two feet."

"No."

"Why are you being so difficult? Do you have to make everything a bone of contention?"

"Hi, I'm Dr. House. Have we met?"

"Jerk."

"I know you are but what am I?"

"How old are you, ten? I don't see what the big deal is. You voluntarily rode around the hospital in a wheelchair in the past."

"That was different. It was in protest of having my parking space stolen. You want to treat me like an invalid."

"Right, because serving you hand and foot has always been a dream of mine."

"At least you're no longer in denial."

"House, just get into the chair!"

"No."

"House—No, just…fine. Walk. Just don't blame me if you overtax yourself and end up hurting later."

"Oh great, now you're going to sulk unless I let you push me around in that thing."

"I am _not _sulking."

"A little birdy is going to come and land on your lip."

"Fuck off."

"Ooh, you really _are_ pissed at me."

"I'm pissed that you have to be so difficult about something as inconsequential as this."

"And I don't understand why this is such a big deal to you? I'm the one who's going to walk after having a liver transplant. If I'm good with it, why aren't you?"

"I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Wilson, I've been up and about walking for three days now—on my own, with just my cane to keep me company. Worrying about me every second is going to drive both of us insane, so stop it."

"It's just that…"

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but it's just what?"

Wilson hesitates a moment. "I almost lost you. Twice."

"Almost is the key word there, Wilson. You didn't lose me, and you won't just because I walk through the hospital on my way out of here. Come here."

Wilson grudgingly approaches House. House wraps his arms around Wilson's waist and pulls him close. Wilson leans into him, bringing his arms up around House as well. He buries his face in the crook of House's neck.

"It's okay," House whispers into Wilson's ear. "_I'm_ okay."

"I was terrified."

"I know. I'm…sorry."

"Don't apologize. Just…don't. There's no need. I'm just being foolish."

"Yes you are."

Wilson chuckles ruefully into House's shoulder then pulls away. He takes hold of House's hand. "Come on. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

"Lead the way."

_**~h/w~**_

House is finally home from the hospital for a few days now, but still on sick leave. He is adjusting to his anti-rejection medications and non-narcotic pain relievers. It is bedtime and Wilson is already lying in bed, but House is walking around the bedroom restlessly.

"House, quit pacing and come to bed."

"I'm not tired. I can't sleep."

"I don't think I've ever seen you so agitated."

"It's the anti-rejection drugs," House tells Wilson. "It has to be the prednisone. My anxiety level is through the roof."

"We'll have to see about adjusting your dosage. Here, come lay with me. I'll give you a massage. It'll relax you."

House comes and lies down on the bed. Wilson notes how quickly House's heart is beating, how tense he seems, as he straddles him and massages his back.

"I sometimes can't believe how lucky we've been over the past year," Wilson says to him, trying to get House's mind off of the anxiety he feels. "Sure, there have been setbacks and bad news, sickness, arguments…but since you were released from prison we managed to come out of some pretty harried situations alive and well. My cancer and remission, your liver and transplant. Our finally finding each other after years of denial and fear. I spent so much time looking for happiness in the traditional expectations of my family and society in general when it was staring me in the face for the past twenty plus years."

"Hm…makes me think about a conversation I had with Nolan once, shortly after you asked me to move out of the condo and just before the Trenton crane disaster. He told me that I was trying to punish myself for something and that it had to do with relationships. He insinuated that it had to do with Cuddy, that I wanted her but didn't feel worthy of her so I was punishing myself. He had it wrong."

"He did? How so?"

House is hesitates for just a moment as he recalls the conversation that had taken place years before.

"I wasn't punishing myself for not being good enough for Cuddy. I had already accepted that she was with Lucas and that was that. I was punishing myself because I wasn't enough for you. Here we were living together, closer than we'd ever been before, and you felt you needed more and chose Sam over me. My company wasn't enough, was never enough."

"House—"

"I now realize that you didn't think I shared the same feelings for you as you had for me, and that you were looking for someone to fill the void left by Amber's death—"

Wilson ceases massaging him. "House, stop. Why didn't you tell me you felt that way?"

"We've already been over it. I was afraid of alienating you and losing your friendship if you knew I was in love with you, and you were trying to use Sam to run away from your feelings for me."

"At the time I didn't think I'd done anything all that wrong by asking you to leave. I knew you were angry but I had no idea how much it hurt you. Now I'm beginning to realize just how much. I'm sorry, House."

"You've already apologized. I don't need you to do it again."

They are quiet for a few moments. House is still tense in spite of Wilson's attempts to massage his anxiety away. He breaks the silence.

"Wilson, if that radical chemo treatment hadn't worked, would you have gone ahead with the slower, more conservative long-term treatment?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Simple curiosity. Answer the question."

"I…don't know."

"You don't know? Surely you've thought about it."

"Yes, but…"

"But what?"

Wilson sighs, collecting his thoughts. "It depends. See, when I first found out I had cancer, we weren't together. I didn't have you, as my lover, to add to my consideration. I thought I was this lonesome loser with no wife or kids or anything but my misanthropic best friend. I didn't want to spend months or even years battling a cancer and all of the pain and indignity that involves, just to be alone in the end. So…at that point in time…I don't think I would have bothered seeking treatment."

"Let me get this straight. Before we were sleeping together our friendship wasn't important enough for you to fight to live for, but now that we are it is? I wasn't important enough to want to stay with for as long as possible but now, miraculously, I am? Because of my miraculous healing cock?"

"House, no, that's not what I meant—"

"That's exactly what it sounds like!"

"House, that was before you decided to make real changes with your life."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"It has a lot to do with it. Look, just…just calm down and allow me to try and explain."

House rolls over to his back, his body still trembling. He is silent, but stares at Wilson intensely, waiting for the explanation.

"Before you made the decision to make real changes in your life, I didn't see you living for very much longer. If the Vicodin and hard drinking didn't kill you, your self-destructive, risky behavior would. Or you'd end up back in prison. Either way I would be completely alone. No partner, no real friends and a family that on a good day could take or leave me. That was not a lot to motivate me to want to endure the pain and misery of chemotherapy and radiation. Then one day, you decided that even though people may not change who they are as a person, they could change some of the things they do and the way they look at life. You told me that you loved me, and you became so much more than just my friend. I went from having nobody to spend a future with to having the most important person in the world to spend it with. If that hadn't happened and I was still facing a future alone stuck where I was, I wouldn't bother fighting for my life. But now I have a great deal more to fight for. I have you, I have a new outlook on life, we're both making real changes and getting out of our ruts, and I've finally accepted myself for who I really am. If I had to choose now or someday down the road from now, I'm pretty sure I'd choose therapy. It's not about you being good enough. It's about the chances of still having you around years from now as opposed to losing you to an overdose or an accident or an angry patient. Do you understand now?"

House says nothing for nearly a minute. Wilson pushes himself up onto his elbow so he can stare down at House. He sees light play on the tears in House's eyes.

"I love you, Greg. You're more than enough for me," Wilson whispers, caressing his bristly face with his hand before leaning down to kiss House tenderly. House kisses back briefly.

"I've had my head up my ass for so long, Jimmy."

"Shh…no no no…shh…." Wilson kisses House's eyes, licking any tears away, His lips move down House's jaw, leaving little kisses between his words. "Relax. Everything is okay. No recrimination…no hate…just you…and me…that's all that matters…now…."


	18. Chapter 18

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (18/22)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~ 1500

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: NC-17 (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

****Please Take Note: The rating of this chapter is NC-17, a departure from the normal R rating.**

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Eighteen**

"House, why is your team congregating in our living room?" Wilson asks after arriving home from work and walking into the bedroom to find House's minions encircling the sofa where House lay resting.

"They got stuck on a case and needed my genius input."

"Well you're supposed to be recuperating not working, so everybody can leave now," Wilson says, his hands flying to his hips.

"Dr. Wilson, our patient crashed three times today and we're no closer to an answer than we were at the start," Park informs him.

"Maybe you can add some useful input," Adams adds, trying to smooth things over with the oncologist.

"The patient is a thirty-eight year old Caucasian woman with a husband of eighteen years and two adolescent sons," House began. "Her symptoms include fatigue, joint pain, abdominal pain, headaches, shortness of breath, weakness and confusion."

"House, you're supposed to be resting, not working," Wilson reminds him, only to receive a rolling of House's eyes.

"I am resting. It's my body that needs to recuperate; my brain is perfectly fine," House insists dismissively.

Wilson sighs then begins to think about the symptoms. "I'm assuming you've done a lab work-up on her. What were her blood counts?"

"Her white cell count was slightly elevated," Taub answers. "Otherwise normal."

"Does she have a history of smoking or being around secondhand smoke?" Wilson asks. "Does she have a cough?"

"She was a waitress at a truck stop diner for six years," Adams answers, "and this morning she did complain of shortness of breath, though it didn't appear to be critical."

"Could be small cell lung cancer," Wilson offers. "Truck stop diners are about as notorious for having smokers and secondhand smoke as bars."

"X-ray her chest," House told his team. "Let's take a look-see if anything is lurking there. Now do what Mommy has told you and vamoose so Daddy can rest."

The team leaves. Wilson stands over House, arms crossed over his chest.

"We agreed that you would help the team over the phone, and then only if they absolutely had to have your input."

"I'm feeling fine and I stayed lying down so I was resting."

"You're incorrigible."

"And you love it."

"Yes, actually I do—to a degree. Try not to find out just how far you can push it."

"You'd be lost without me."

"Exactly. That's why I want you to take it easy, House."

"You worry too much."

"Maybe you don't worry enough. I almost lost you—twice."

"I know. Come here."

"Actually, I was going to make something to eat."

"No need. There's a casserole in the fridge—Adams brought it, figured we both could use a break. It's not half-bad."

"That was very considerate of her. I hope you thanked her."

"Wilson, don't you know me yet?"

"Of course. I'll thank her for the both of us tomorrow. Bonnie stopped by my office earlier with some listings and pictures of condos and bungalows for us to look at. There are a few that I liked and I want your opinion since it's going to be _our_ home."

"Get undressed and join me in the bedroom with them."

"House, I have to get something to eat first."

"So have dinner in bed, too. In case you haven't caught on yet, I want you naked and in bed with me a.s.a.p."

Wilson sighs heavily and heads for the kitchen. House lifts himself off the sofa and heads to the bedroom where he undresses completely and slips into bed under the covers. A little while later Wilson returns with a tray holding a plate of food and a glass of milk. He also comes bearing listings on the tray.

"You have to get naked," House tells him.

"Alright, alright." Wilson sets the tray down on a nightstand and begins to disrobe. House watches intently, a smile trying hard to crack his otherwise stoic expression. "This isn't exactly the most sanitary way of eating a meal."

"You're not going to roll around in your food naked so it's no less sanitary than with your clothes on. Of course, just the thought of you rolling around in something like chocolate pudding or strawberry Jell-O is intriguing."

"Dream on, House. It's never going to happen."

"Never say never, Wilson."

"You'll be doing it before I ever do."

"We'll see."

Wilson sits on top of the covers, using the headboard as a backrest, eating carefully. There is a comfortable silence as House's eyes gratefully take in the sight of his lover.

"You're so sexy, Wilson," House tells him softly, his hand coming to rest lightly on one of Wilson's thighs.

"And you're horny."

"Guilty as charged," House agrees. "You do that to me."

Wilson sets the tray on the floor next to the bed and then leans in to kiss House properly on the mouth. His hand moves to hold the base of House's skull in order to pull him deeper into the kiss. House returns the kiss with fervor, his hands roaming Wilson's body.

Wilson pulls out of the kiss, breathless. "We have to…take it easy," he pants lightly. House groans in frustration but nods in agreement.

"This is killing me, Wilson. I want you so badly."

"I want you, too, but I don't want to hurt you. Listen, I brought the listings Bonnie gave me. Why don't we look through them together?"

"If you think that makes up for it you're sadly mistaken. I don't care if it hurts. The pleasure will overcome the discomfort. I'm not going to spontaneously bleed again, if that's what you're concerned about. Forget about the listings and come closer."

Wilson reluctantly does as House says. House pulls Wilson into a passionate kiss. The kiss lingers, then House mouths Wilson's jaw, heading toward his ear. He bites lightly on Wilson's earlobe before sucking on it; his hands are finding Wilson's erogenous zones.

House whispers, "I'm going to suck you so hard you're going to beg me to stop but I won't. I'll keep rolling my tongue over the head of your cock and then take all of you into my mouth and suck again. You'll be begging me to stop and to keep going and to bring you over the edge. I'll do it slowly, making you wait, making you come so close—"

"Fuck, House," Wilson gasps before grabbing House's face in both of his hands and devouring his mouth hungrily. He pulls away after a while to breathe and moans, "I've missed you so much!"

They continue to make out. Wilson gradually moves down House's body, mouthing his skin and nipping here and there. House's fingers tangle themselves in Wilson's silky hair. When Wilson reaches House's semi-erect cock he presses kisses to the head, watching gleefully as it becomes harder. An impatient House fights the urge to thrust his member into Wilson's face but he doesn't have to wait long before Wilson takes his length into his mouth and throat. It doesn't take long for House to come, and if he wasn't in a state of post-orgasmic bliss he might feel a little embarrassed by how quickly it occurred.

Wilson moves back up to lie next to House, his own need very obvious. He can't help but stroke himself. As House becomes more aware of his surroundings again he pushes Wilson hand away and replaces it with his own. He strokes Wilson as someone who knows what feels good. Wilson moans, thrusting his hips. House rolls over and inches down the bed until his face is even with Wilson's cock. He winces a little from discomfort around his incision.

"House—" Wilson begins after noticing but House silences him.

"I'm fine. Relax."

Wilson sighs and relaxes his body just as House takes his cock into his mouth while massaging his testicles with his hand. Grunts, groans and the odd expletive leave Wilson's mouth. It takes a little longer for Wilson to reach climax than it did for House, and he comes hard into House's mouth. House swallows every drop, allowing Wilson's dick to fall from his lips. He slowly moves back up to lie next to Wilson, kissing him tenderly.

A smile crosses Wilson's lips. He rolls over closer to House and covers them both with the comforter then carefully wraps an arm around him. They fall asleep without any further talk.


	19. Chapter 19

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (19/22)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1480

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: NC-17 (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Nineteen**

House and Wilson follow ex-Mrs. Wilson # 2 into the fourth bungalow that afternoon. Though House finds himself tiring by now, he says nothing to Wilson about it, knowing Wilson would make a big deal about it. He does hope, however, that this is the last house they have to view, that Wilson will like this one better than he did the others. Personally, House doesn't really care what the place is like so long as there are no stairs and there's room for his piano, organ, and his guitar and record collections—oh yes, and room for his books, too.

"Everything you need is on the main level," Bonnie tells them as they walk into the living room. The fireplace is wood-burning and double-sided, open to both the living room on one side and dining room on the other. You can see the lovely bay window looks out onto the park across the street. All of the window treatments stay with the house—they are custom-made oak horizontals. There is plenty of room in here for a piano or organ. Crown molding is featured throughout the house. Let's move into the kitchen."

"What do you think?" Wilson asks House quietly as they follow his ex-wife around the house.

"No stairs is a plus, as is a wood-burning fireplace," House admits. "I could see my piano sitting in front of the bay window. I can't believe I'm talking like this. Since when do I care about such things?"

"You were pretty picky when you picked your apartment," Wilson reminds him. "Admit it—you're excited that we're buying a place together. I don't want to make all of the decisions. I want the place we end up buying to be one we both like."

"So long as there's a bedroom and a bathroom and room for my piano and guitars I'm good," House informs him. "I could care less about crown molding and window treatments."

They enter the kitchen. Wilson immediately begins to look around closely at the appliances, the location of the sink and power outlets. He opens all of the cabinets to get a look of how much space there is in them.

"I really like the sink and dishwasher in the island," he says as he investigates. "There's plenty of room to have bar stools at the island and still move about easily. I'm not certain about the electric stove, though. I prefer gas, but I guess we could always have a gas line brought into the kitchen and replace the electric stove with a gas one. I like the double-basin sink and butcher's block top on the island. The cabinets are outdated. I would replace them with new cabinets that go to the ceiling to provide more storage space. The wine fridge is a nice touch. What do you think, House?"

"The refrigerator is big enough to hold a case of beer," House says with a shrug. "I'm sold."

"Not that you're going to be doing any drinking other than dealcoholized beer with that new liver. You know, you're lots of help."

"Hey, you're the one who does most of the cooking," House defends. "It's what you like in the kitchen that matters."

After the kitchen Bonnie leads them to the master bedroom and ensuite bathroom. Here House takes more interest in the details. The bathtub is a claw-foot freestanding tub with a separate shower stall and dual sink vanity in the room.

"That tub would have to go," House tells Wilson. "On bad days there's no way I could climb into it on my own with my bad leg."

"I agree," Wilson says, nodding. "There's plenty of room to put in a lower Jacuzzi that would better meet your needs."

"Make it a Jacuzzi made for two and I'm all for it," House tells him, wagging his eyebrows. Wilson blushes, glancing furtively at Bonnie, who is obviously trying to pretend she can't hear them.

"As you can see, there is plenty of room in here for a king-sized bed and accompanying furniture," she tells them. "This has an east exposure and the window looks out onto the large backyard."

The bedroom is large with a fair-sized walk-in closet with plenty of hanger space to accommodate the two of them. The bedroom has a lanai just off of it with a sliding glass door leading to it.

Next she shows them a spare bedroom that is a little smaller than the master, but not by much, and it, too, has a walk-in closet. There is another 3/4 bath that can be accessed through a sliding door between it and bedroom # 2. A Murphy bed was designed into the wall to accommodate guests that Wilson would have, undoubtedly, stay with them in the future.

"This would make a good office-slash-guest room," Wilson says enthusiastically.

"The office part I like," House replies. "The guest part I'm not crazy about."

Wilson shakes his head at him.

They inspect the three-quarter bathroom next. It is actually a mudroom-slash-laundry room with a toilet, shower stall, and sink partitioned off for privacy.

"So what do you think?" Wilson asks House again. "I like it better than the others we looked at, but it will take some renovations to bring it to our specifications. Should we look further or should we make an offer?"

"If you like it, I like it," House tells him sincerely, earning an eye roll. He continues, saying, "I say we make an offer less than what they're asking because of the changes we would have to make."

"Agreed," Wilson says then talks to Bonnie about their next move.

Later, once they are back at the loft, getting ready for bed, they discuss their potential purchase.

"I have to admit, I'm excited about buying that bungalow, House. It's a big step in our relationship."

"You certain you still want to make that step?"

"Of course I am. Aren't you?"

"Yes, but then again, I was happy living with you before when you asked me to leave the loft."

"And I've told you, that won't happen again. This place will have both of our names on the title. It will be _our_ home. You're stuck with me for good."

"Like a bad virus."

"Thanks a lot!"

House approaches Wilson and wraps his arms around his waist before leaning in and kissing him passionately. Wilson quickly succumbs to the kiss and adds passion of his own.

"You're one infection I don't want to be cured of," House says softly after they part from the kiss to breathe. Their foreheads rest against each other's.

"How romantic," Wilson retorts sarcastically, fighting the urge to smile.

"If you wanted romantic, you picked the wrong person."

"Actually, you are romantic in your own ass-backward way."

"Admit it, you wouldn't have me any other way."

"We-e-ll…." Wilson can't help but smile. "I love you just the way you are."

"Back at ya, Wilson."


	20. Chapter 20

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (20/22)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1480

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Twenty**

"That wasn't as bad as you had anticipated," Wilson says to House as they turn down the blankets and climb into bed. "Admit that inviting your team over for Thanksgiving in our new home was a good idea."

"I would, if it had been," House replies, staring up at the ceiling as Wilson turns off the lamp on his side of the bed.

"For someone who didn't enjoy himself, you were certainly helpful and entertaining."

"I only helped you with the cooking to avoid socializing with my minions. The piano playing was my attempt to avoid visiting after the meal. Unfortunately you sabotaged that by asking them for requests. Do I look like some flunkie playing at a piano bar to you?"

"Get off it, House. You were enjoying yourself. You like your 'minions' as you call them and enjoyed playing for them. There's a bit of the entertainer in you."

"If you're going to continue to insult me I'm going to roll over and go to sleep."

"I was surprised when Park brought Chase as her 'plus one'. They aren't an item, are they?"

"'An item'? You're sounding more and more like a middle aged housewife every day, Wilson. As far as I know they are simply friends. If they're fucking each other it's news to me. News that I don't care about and of which I certainly don't want to form a mental picture."

"Too late. I know you're picturing it right now, House."

"Only because you won't drop the topic. Okay, it's not a pleasant image. Thanks a lot, Wilson."

Wilson chuckles. "I don't know. Park is awkward but not unattractive. Chase is pretty. Why would it be so strange for them to be a couple?"

"Because Ken dolls date Barbie dolls, not Barbie's-little-sister's-geeky-short-friend dolls; tens date tens, fives date fives. That's just the way it works."

"Politically correct you are not," Wilson sighs, shaking his head. "I don't know…there's something about Park that leads me to believe she's not as geeky as you think. Who knows—maybe under that geeky, awkward exterior is the heart of a sex goddess."

"You can't be serious. You don't have a crush on Park, do you Wilson?"

"You caught me House. I spend my days fantasizing about all your female employees."

"And Chase—don't forget Chase."

"Chase doesn't do very much for me, actually. He's definitely good looking, but I've never really found myself attracted to him. Kutner was a good-looking man, though."

House half-laughs in surprise. "Kutner? Are you serious? You were attracted to _Kutner_?"

"It was purely physical. I found him annoying as a person but he was an attractive man. He had a nice ass. Not as nice as yours, of course."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"Neither can I. Funny how life changes. A few months ago I never would have admitted to finding other men attractive."

"You're just more in touch with your gay self now, Wilson."

"You could be right. How about you? Who have you found attractive? It can be anyone we both know, male or female. Hmm?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Come on. You have to have someone in mind, and you can't use Stacy, Cameron, or Cuddy because those answers are obvious."

"This is stupid, Wilson."

"Of course it is, that's what makes it fun. Come on, you can tell me. I promise I won't be offended. I know you love me and that it's only natural to find oneself attracted to people without necessarily wanting to do them. If you don't tell me I'll start suggesting people for you."

"Wilson—"

"Come on, House—just for shits and giggles. It's okay."

"I really don't think we should play this game."

"Nurse Previn," Wilson suggests. "You find Brenda attractive."

"No."

"Okay…Thirteen."

"She's symmetrical and beautiful, but I never thought of her in those terms."

"Seriously? I did, a couple of times. Okay, if not Thirteen, then—"

"Wilson, you really don't want me to tell you. Please drop this now."

"Wow. You seriously don't want to talk about this. That means you think I will be offended by your answer. That only makes me more curious."

"I'm going to sleep. Goodnight, Wilson."

"House, just tell me."

House sighs, rubs his eyes tiredly. "If I tell you the name, do you promise we won't have any further discussion about it—you'll drop this ridiculous game?"

"Okay. I promise."

House is silent a moment, reluctant before saying softly, "Amber."

House rolls over facing away from Wilson. Wilson looks at his back, unable to think of anything to say because he is so surprised by the answer.

"Amber? You were attracted to my girlfriend?"

"You promised, Wilson. Goodnight."

"No. Not goodnight. I think we need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about. I found her physically attractive. That shouldn't be something you find difficult to comprehend. She was a pretty woman. I disliked her as a person. It means nothing, Wilson."

"But it does," Wilson insists, placing a hand on House's shoulder. "Please roll over and look at me."

"No."

"House, do you think I'm angry because you found her attractive?"

"Aren't you?"

"No."

"Bullshit."

"Really, I'm not. If we're being honest here, I have to admit to you that I found Stacy to be an attractive woman."

"You did not."

"I did too. Cuddy, too."

House rolls over to face Wilson again.

"I found Cameron attractive as well," Wilson tells him. "Just because I found them attractive didn't mean I wanted to pursue them…especially when I knew that at least two of them were very special to you. I know that nothing would have ever occurred between Amber and you had she survived. You know how?"

House shakes his head.

"Because both of you loved me," Wilson answers, "and never would have done such a thing knowing how much it would hurt me. That's how. I didn't realize back then how lucky I was. I had two people in love with me. And I loved two people. I almost lost both. I'm very lucky to still have you, House. I mean that."

"You're a sap, Wilson."

"I know, but you love me anyway."

"And don't you forget it."

**A/N: I'm basing the fact that House found Amber physically attractive on his own doubts about what happened between him and her during House's Head/Wilson's Heart. There is one scene where House dreams that Amber is practically climbing on him in a seductive manner. I am not saying that it went beyond the purely physical.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (21/22)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1480

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

House emerges from the police station with a smile on his face as he approaches Wilson's car. He climbs into the shotgun position.

"'Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty we are free at last.' No more parole, Wilson."

"At long last," Wilson agrees, grinning from ear to ear.

"I feel like celebrating," House tells him. He reaches into the inner breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out two Cubans and hands one to Wilson. They both bite the ends off and light them using the car cigarette lighter. House blows smoke rings and Wilson opens a window for ventilation.

"Just the one cigar," Wilson tells him, taking an obligatory puff, not really interested in smoking it. "These things will kill you."

House chuckles at that while knocking ash off his stogie out his window. "We are free to start our sabbaticals, Wilson. What do you want to do first?"

"I want to put this thing out," is the honest answer. "Then I want to take you home and make love to you. We can decide what to do after that." He leans over and places his hand behind House's neck before pulling him into a tender, lingering kiss.

"I like your style," House tells him as Wilson butts out his cigar in the ashtray and starts the car.

They drive back to their bungalow and aren't in the front door before they are all over each other, frenetic in their passion and desire. They leave behind them a trail of discarded clothing on their way to their bedroom. Their bodies are as one as they make love and when both have reached climax they lay in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs, their faces only inches apart.

"Now…that was a…celebration," House pants, laying a hand on Wilson's flushed cheek to caress it.

"Better than those…cigars you bought," Wilson agrees, nodding.

"I'm free, Wilson."

"I know. What do you want to do with that freedom?"

"Why don't we buy a couple of motorcycles and travel the U.S.? We could go from coast to coast, wherever we felt like going and doing whatever we felt like doing."

"The travelling part sounds great," Wilson agrees cautiously. "I'd love to go to all the places I've never been yet but have wanted to see, especially if I get to do it with you. The motorcycle part though…I don't want to ride one of those death traps on wheels."

"We would buy cruising bikes," House argues. "Not crotch-rockets like my current bike. They're easier to handle for a beginner and I could teach you how to ride a bike safely in no time. Travelling by bike is the simplest way to go. I guarantee you'll grow to love it."

"I seriously doubt that. Look, why don't we buy a flashy sports car for the road trip? It would have to be more comfortable than riding on a motorcycle all day, day after day. We could take turns driving. I'd be much more comfortable travelling that way."

"Well, we don't have to decide today. Maybe we can do part of the trip by car and part by motorcycle. Where do you want to go? What do you want to see?"

"Oh, I don't know…I've always wanted to explore the Rocky Mountains. We could visit Montana, Washington, Colorado…or we could head south and see the Smoky Mountains. Hey, we could spend some time in Florida, maybe hit Key West, spend some time enjoying surf and sand. I wouldn't mind visiting the west coast, either. We could golf in Palm Springs, act like tourists in L.A., enjoy wine country or ride the cable cars in San Francisco. There are so many places and things to do. What about you?"

"I saw a lot of different places in the mainland U.S. growing up because my father would be transferred from one base or another. You know that we lived in several places internationally as well. I'd love to go back to Fiji and take you with me this time. Basically, I'm open for just about anywhere but there's one place in particular I definitely want to hit."

"Las Vegas," Wilson says knowingly. "You want to hit those Texas hold'em tables."

"And Blackjack," House adds. "Or Baccarat and Roulette. You know me too well."

"I don't think I know you well enough."

"Ditto for you, Wilson."

"Hey, if I didn't keep you guessing you'd grow bored of me," Wilson defends with a smile.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," House says, then places a tender kiss on Wilson's lips. "Hey, we could go back to New Orleans, where it all started."

"That's not a bad idea. We should go there for Mardi-Gras."

"Just so long as you refrain from throwing things into antique mirrors and getting arrested this time."

"Naw, I already did that. Jail is overrated."

"If you think jail is overrated, you should see what prison is like."

"No thanks. It bothers me just thinking about some of the things you went through there."

"You don't know the half of it."

"That bothers me even more—the things you haven't told me about. The fact that there is stuff you haven't told me leads me to believe it was horrendous."

"There's no point revisiting it. I'm free and I'm liking the idea of this sabbatical already."

"Me, too. Just wait until it starts. I'd go anywhere with you."

"Hey, now, don't get all sappy on me!"

"I'm not. I'm just stating a fact." Wilson pulls close and kisses House tenderly while House continues to caress his face. "After so many years of questionable luck, how did we come to be so lucky?"

"I don't know," House answers, "but let's not jinx things by dwelling too much on it. Let's just enjoy it while we can."

Wilson nods. "I love you."

"I love you, too," House whispers, closing the gap between them and capturing Wilson's mouth in a kiss.


	22. Chapter 22

**Title: ****Bedtime Confessions (22/22)**

**Author: pgrabia**

**Disclaimer: **House M.D. and its characters do not belong to me. I am borrowing them for entertainment purposes only and I'm not making any money from this.

**Genre: **Drama/Romance/fluff

**Characters/Pairing(s): **G. House, J. Wilson, various Canon and original characters/ House/Wilson slash.

**Word Count: **~1480

**Spoilers/Warnings: **General spoilers for all seasons up to and including Season 8.

**Rating: R (M) **(to be safe)

**A/N: **Part of _The Cheater_ universe, takes place some time shortly after _The Cheater._ You may want to read that fic first. It can be found at my journal. Mostly dialogue.

Unbetaed, sorry.

**Bedtime Confessions**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Wilson approaches the car in the parking garage carrying a large suitcase in one hand and a clipboard in the other. He opens the trunk and lifts the suitcase into it. He then walks over to the passenger's side of the car, checking off something written on the list on his clipboard.

"If we were riding motorcycles you wouldn't need a clipboard to keep track of everything you've packed," House grouses as he sits in the front seat of the convertible Corvette with its top down.

Wilson is going through his list for the third time. "We already discussed this, House and we came to an agreement. We will travel by car for the beginning of our trip and will switch to motorcycles when we reach California."

"Doesn't mean I have to like the agreement," House insists. "What are we going to do with all of this stuff when we reach California?"

"We'll rent a storage unit and keep it there and go on with whatever we can fit in our saddlebags and backpacks," Wilson answers. "You remembered to pack a couple of sweaters, didn't you?"

"Wilson, we're spending Christmas with my mother and Doofus in Kentucky. I don't think it's going to blizzard while we're there."

"I'll take that as a no," Wilson says with a sigh. "It's a good thing I packed an extra one that you can wear. At least we don't have to pack gifts. We'll buy those as we go."

"We could buy over half of that stuff on the go if we find we need it. We're travelling the States, not the wild rainforests of Brazil."

"It never hurts to be prepared."

"Oh God, here it comes."

"Don't give me that look, House. Remember Aesop's fable of the ant and the grasshopper."

"Seriously? You're quoting Aesop now? Besides, that fable was about working hard for as long as one could. I think we should MRI your head before we leave, just to be on the safe side."

"The fable," Wilson said in his best tone of long-suffering, "was also about how the Ant—that would be me—planned and prepared ahead of time whereas the grasshopper—that would be you—sat on his ass and took it easy when the weather was good but ended up wishing he'd followed the ant's example when the snow began to fall."

"You're a nerd, you know that?"

"You'll be thanking me later."

"I doubt it. Look, are you just about ready? We were supposed to be on the road an hour ago."

"Just about. Besides, where's the rush? We don't have to answer to a time clock. It looks like rain might be on its way. We should raise the top on the car."

"Convertibles are cooler with the top down."

"You won't look so cool when you're soaked to the skin and the car interior is ruined."

"I thought making changes in your life meant being a little less anal."

"I'm not being anal! And you should talk! You're being contrary just like usual."

"Hey, babysteps!"

"That goes both ways, House."

"I'll put the top up if it starts to rain. It'll only take a few seconds. Relax, get in the car and let's get on the road already. First stop, Atlantic City casinos. There's a stool at a blackjack table with my name on it."

"I like the penny slots," Wilson says as he round the car and gets in on the driver's side.

"You would."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's low risk. You need to get in touch with your wild side and leave the Boy Scout at home. That's where I come in."

"How so?"

"I'm going to teach you how to be more fun and spontaneous."

"Oh, this ought to be good," Wilson comments drily.

"What are you waiting for?" House asks impatiently. "Start the car and let's get going! We're not getting any younger, you know."

Wilson nods, starts the car, drives it into the flow of traffic heading out of Princeton. "And away we go!"

_**~fin~**_


End file.
